All For One
by Sapphira T
Summary: When Aramis and D'artagnan get in a bit of trouble with Spaniards, they meet Rogue, a female traveling rogue, dressed like a man, can fight like a man, and acts like a man. Rogue gets them out of the Spaniard's clutches, and together, they travel back to Paris. But why did the Spaniard's have all of them to begin with? Who is Rogue really?
1. Chapter 1

**New story!**

 **Now, I know that this is a bit farfetched with the whole girl pretending to be a guy and looks like a boy thing, but I'm sure plenty of people did it back then. If not, oh well. My story, I can do what I like. :) Also, I'm trying to fashion this new female character to be a bit of a pirate style girl.**

 **My apologies if I don't get the characters right, feel free to correct me.**

 **Anyway, I'm giving the musketeers a try. Tell me if you like it!**

 **ST**

I couldn't help but stare at the cell opposite of mine in slight confusion. Were these two complete morons? They were in the clutches of a torturer, and they were snarking back and forth stuff like 'Had you not scared the pheasants, they wouldn't have spotted us.' 'Well if you hadn't tripped me with your musket, I wouldn't have scared the stupid birds.' I think they were speaking French. Did I somehow manage to go from England to France? Wouldn't be unheard of, but unlikely.

I wanted to bang my head into the wall. Maybe I could knock myself out. Might be better than listening to these two idiots. Then again, if I did that, I wouldn't finish picking the lock on my manacles. Then I would die in this stupid cell because of blood loss and never see my horse again or continue the wonderful life of being a rogue.

With a definite click, the manacles unlocked.

The sound silenced the two men in the cell, and one of them, the one who had a very nice voice, said, "Hello? Is there someone actually in that dark thing they call a cell?"

I laughed in answer and stood up. My black cloak billowed around me, and I pulled the hood up.

Thankfully, I had not been divested of my clothes. Just my weapons. Or at least, the ones they could see without doing an extensive search. Despite being mercenaries, they still had enough honor not to inappropriately touch a lady. Yet they still found it in them to stab me repeatedly in the abdomen. How charming.

Anyway, back to the subject of clothing.

I wore black trousers that were tight on my hips but loose everywhere else, and they were tucked into the calf high leather boots. I had on a black long sleeve shirt that was tight on my wrists and hips, but loose everywhere else. Like my trousers. And I had black leather gloves and a black traveling cloak trimmed with dark blue.

No, I wasn't wearing a dress. How unladylike of me, right? Well screw that. I was a rogue and I could do what I bloody well pleased. Dresses were cumbersome, so were those awful shoes, and don't get me started on the uncomfortable corsets that ladies were forced to wear if they wanted to be respectable.

Then again, what did I care about respect from those kinds of people?

I kind of looked like a boy. A very fair faced boy. But besides being slightly bigger in the hips and the chest, I really would look like a boy if you didn't know better. I had short black hair that barely brushed my shoulders, easier to fight with and manage than long hair, piercing dark blue eyes, pale skin, high, icy features that made me look like I had been cut from marble, and a lean frame. I was tall, about 6'1, and looked like I was built for running.

My voice was musical and fair, but it was a bit deeper than your average high pitched lady. So if I tried, I could pass for a boy. Besides, it wasn't that hard. My father taught me to be a fighter, not a damsel in distress, from the time I was old enough to hold a dagger.

I also bound what little of a chest that I had, it made it easier to ride and to move about. And it was much simpler than putting on a damn corset.

To put it simply, based on the way I acted, the way I dressed, and the general way that I carried myself, I passed for a very impish boy.

Fine by me.

I walked towards the cell door, ignoring the way my stomach protested in pain at the movements.

I knelt down, pulled the lock picks up again, and got to work on the door. Within moments, another click rang through the air.

I crossed the walkway to the two idiots' cell and quickly picked that lock too. I walked inside and stood in front of them. I tilted my head and gestured to their manacles.

"May I?" I asked in flawless French. Thanks to my father, I was fluent in many languages.

Without a word, both of them held up their manacles. One of them was injured. The younger one. He had dark brown hair that hung over his shoulders, big brown eyes that were scrunched up in pain, olive skin, and a lean figure. He was bleeding heavily from his shoulder, and a stab wound was making itself known on his torso.

The other one looked relatively unscathed except for a few bruises. He also had dark brown hair and rich brown eyes. He skin was a bit lighter than the younger ones.

I knelt down next to the younger one and began to pick the lock on his manacles. Soon, the first one popped off. Releasing his injured arm. I grabbed it before it could fall to his side and create more pain, and gently eased it down to his lap.

I quickly released his other arm and moved on to the next man. Soon, he was released. As soon as he was free, he moved over to the injured boy.

He quickly checked him over and sighed, "I don't have anything to stitch it up with. Your arm definitely needs stitches, and it wouldn't hurt to stitch this too." He poked lightly at the stab wound and the boy hissed.

I turned on my heel and began stalking to the main door.

The uninjured one leapt to his feet and called after me, "Where are you going?"

I turned around slightly and gave him a crooked grin, "To get our things back. If I remember correctly, they'll be in the room across the hall to this one. All that I have to do is take out the guard. I have medical supplies in my bag. Give me a moment and I'll return."

He looked conflicted, then looked at his injured friend and nodded. "Alright. Do it quickly please."

I threw a salute at him.

I may not know who the hell they are, but I was always partial to strays.

I cautiously opened the door, and it thankfully didn't creak open. I looked out to see one guard posted at the door. I bent and retrieved a knife from my boot. I drew in a deep breath, then lunged out of the door. I quickly took the guard out and lowered him gently to the ground.

Once he was down, I dragged him to a corner and moved a threadbare blanket over him after drawing the keys from his belt.

That done, I crept through the dank hallway and to the door I remembered my sword being tossed into. With a quick glance left and right, I unlocked the door and hastened inside.

I looked around the small room and found a small pile of things. Two other cloaks rested in a heap on the ground, and on these two piles rested two swords, two muskets, a hat, a few pistols, a few saddle bags, and thick leather pauldrons. Said pauldrons had fleur de lis on the side. Wonderful. The two strays I was taking in were Musketeers. Yay me.

Beside their belongings, rested mine. I grinned at the black rapier and quickly put it back in its scabbard on my hip. I replaced the numerous knives back to their rightful positions and slung my bag over my shoulders. I also put my pistols where they belonged. That done, I repositioned my cloak and picked up the Musketeers things.

I stuck my head out into the corridor again and checked that no one was coming, then crept back to the cell block.

I opened the door quickly and shut it, locking it again just in case someone decided to pay us a visit before we were ready. Hopefully, my horse was still in the stables, and not dog food. Nah, he wouldn't let them.

I turned back around, only to get a knife in my face.


	2. Chapter 2

I knocked the dagger away easily and ripped my hood off my head. "That's no way to greet someone who is attempting to help you. But hey, if you want to take my head off, I'll give you easier access." I snarled at the uninjured Musketeer.

He looked at me in surprise for a moment, before grinning at me with a wink. "My apologies, I did not realize a girl was helping us. Though I'd love to see you in a skirt, rather than that outfit. However, it isn't bad."

I rolled my eyes. Typical man. Though, he didn't seem particularly disgusted with my choice of clothing. If anything, he found it amusing.

I held up the bundle in my arms. "Would you like your things back. Or would you like me to put them where they were?"

He grinned at me again before taking his things. I followed him back to where the boy was, and set my bag down next to him.

While the other man was getting all of things back on, including the hat, I began pulling out all of my medical supplies.

"Did he get shot?" I asked the man after I looked at the boy's arm.

"Yes. But the ball just grazed him. I've stopped the bleeding for now. But it'll have to be closed unless we want infection setting in." The man replied, appearing at the boy's side.

"My name is Aramis, by the way. This one's name is D'artagnan." He declared almost jovially.

D'artagnan's expression mimicked my own and he said, "Aramis, we are in a cell, with people planning on torturing us to get France's secrets, and you're making joyful conversation. There is something not right with your head, surely."

Aramis only laughed and began wrapping his injuries. Between the two of us, we got it done quickly. Once we were finished, Aramis frowned and muttered, "We have to get away quickly. We cannot stay here to treat these injuries. And don't think I have not seen the way you guard your right side." He turned his eye to me and winked again.

I rolled my eyes in return and replied, "My name is Rogue."

D'artagnan looked at me as he struggled into a better sitting position. "You look very….."

I rolled my eyes again, "I know. I look very girlish. Your friend got it quicker than you did. Might there be a reason why I look like a girl?"

Aramis grinned at D'artagnan and wiggled his eyebrows. D'artagnan's eyes widened and he stuttered, "But you don't dress like a girl…."

I raised an eyebrow at him, "Would **you** like to wear a dress and corset?" He shook his head and I smirked, "Than why should I? I pass for a boy just fine. Besides, it's much easier to fight with pants, rather than a skirt."

D'artagnan looked away, a blush creeping up the side of his face. "My apologies."

Aramis smirked at me and I threw a grin back at him. I didn't care if people knew I was a girl, but I didn't go around announcing it. And clearly, D'artagnan was a bit more naïve than Aramis was.

I scoffed, "None needed. Come on then, we'd best get going. Hopefully, my horse is still in the stable. We can nick a few other horses if need be, but my horse has all my things."

Aramis nodded and we slowly moved D'artagnan into a standing position.

Once he was up, I put my bag on once again, adjusted my cloak, and crept to the door. I opened it and walked silently out. I looked each way, and still there was no one. I motioned for Aramis and he staggered out supporting D'artagnan.

We walked as quietly as we could down the halls until we reached a big window. I looked out and saw what I wanted. I pointed to the large stables and motioned to Aramis. He nodded and began walking away.

I grabbed his arm and pulled them both back to the window, then pointed to the ground. A pile of hay was conveniently stacked near the wall, and would provide something suitable to jump onto.

It was late at night, so no one was loitering around the stable yard. It would be simple. And I'd done this kind of thing before.

Aramis shook his head, mouthing 'Too dangerous'. I scoffed, shook my head, then jumped out the window before he could stop me.

Musketeers

I landed in the hay with a muffled thump. I had been right. It was perfect for a soft landing.

I looked back up towards the window to see Aramis and D'artagnan looking out anxiously. I waved up to them and they both grinned.

I struggled out of the hay just as D'artagnan hit it. He groaned a bit louder than me, probably due to the injuries, then started to struggle out. I grabbed him and drug him out just as Aramis crashed into the hay.

As soon as we were all out, we crept to the stables.

I opened the door and grinned widely as the first horse I saw was my big black war horse. He nickered when he saw me and tossed his head up. I hastily stepped into the stable and picked the lock on the saddle barn.

I stepped inside and saw that my big saddle was still there and in one piece. The saddle bags were still hidden on the side by a thick blanket. Shoot me for not having anything better to hide them with. I inspected them carefully before deeming that nothing had been taken before pulling the saddle up and walking out.

Aramis was walking around the stable, presumably looking for their horses, while D'artagnan leaned against a post trying to get his breath back.

I saddled my horse quickly and led him over to where D'artagnan was. I held out the reins and he took them quietly.

I turned back around and helped Aramis saddle the two horses he had dragged out of the stalls. He looked like he wanted to object to the help, no doubt because of his honor code or something, but he knew that right now, arguing wouldn't get us out of this situation.

Once we were done, we pushed D'artagnan onto his horse and led the horses out of the stables and into the fields beyond the fort.

As soon as we moderately away from the fort like thing, Aramis and I got onto our horses.

We had to go slow, so as to not aggravate D'artagnan's injuries, but Aramis had given me a pointed look when he gave the order. Wow. So subtle.

But I grudgingly obeyed even though I could just race off if I so chose. I have no clue why I was sticking around them. They were Musketeers! Although, I had not extended the roguish tendencies to France yet. I was perfectly fine with England at the moment. I held no love for them, and doubted I ever would. France was okay, and there was some pretty places.

Nothing like Wales though. My homeland would always have my heart. But I could never go back there.

My heart hurt at that statement, but there was no changing it. The only thing I could do was focus on the future, and hope that someday I could see the sloping hills of Wales again.

Until then, I would jump from place to place, take out irritating jerks, help poor, defenseless people, and cause as much trouble as I could in one place before hopping to the next. If I was correct in trusting a few contacts, the English King hated me, and the next time he got the chance, my head would be on the chopping block. To his people though, I was quite the star.

Back to the horse ride though. Despite remaining stoic and attempting to make no noise, I had started to whimper with every jostle riding my horse was causing on my injuries. D'artagnan was trying to as well and it wasn't working out in his favor.

And I didn't miss the fact that Aramis kept glancing worriedly at me just as much as he did D'artagnan. I ground my teeth together and bit my tongue to stop from making noise.

"We have to find shelter somewhere." Aramis said finally.

I rolled my eyes, "Oh course we do. But I've never been to this part of the woods before! Last I knew, I was in a quaint little town on the border of France and England. Now I'm here in a place that is most decidedly NOT the border of France and England! Do you have any idea where we are?"

Aramis sighed and shook his head, "No. We might be in France, or we might be in Spain. D'artagnan and I were completing a mission when we got taken. I know why we were taken, we're Musketeers and they wanted information. But why were you?"

I scoffed, "I have absolutely no clue. Although, when I got questioned, they cursed at me in Spanish quite often. Also, they kept asking me about a letter. Know anything about that?"

Aramis looked away thoughtfully. "D'artagnan and I were a diversion from something else. The other members of our team went one way with a letter that was to someone that I can't tell you about, while D'artagnan and I went the other. I assume by the way these people spoke, and that you were there, they haven't captured our teammates. Instead, believing that you were one of them."

I scoffed, "Right. So, I'm near the border of France and England, and that automatically makes me suspicious and means that they can kidnap me and steal my horse. Wonderful. Why is it always me?"

Aramis laughed dryly, "I have asked myself that question many a time, _mi amiga._ "

I smirked at him wryly, "Oh, the stories I could tell you."

Aramis gave me a sidelong grin, "We can entertain each other over wine after we get out of this mess and figure out where we are. D'artagnan, are you still awake?"

A moan was the response, "Oh…. I'm just….. swell….. thanks so…. much for asking."

I turned my gaze to him. He was pale, breathing hard, and was barely staying upright in the saddle.

I sighed, "I'll ride ahead, see if there is anything we can make into a temporary shelter. And before you say it, I'm not about to fall off my horse because of my injuries. You and he know one another and I'm not about to ask that you trust me, a complete stranger, with his life. So, I'll ride ahead, find something, then come back."

Aramis thought about it, and it was difficult to see his expression with the low lighting, before sighing, "Alright. Just be quick about it."

I gave him a salute, "Yes, oh great Musketeer, sir." Then kicked my horse into a gallop.


	3. Chapter 3

After riding into the trees, I found a large cliff face. After inspecting it, a cave soon appeared. I dismounted and walked into it cautiously. It wasn't particularly deep, but the ceiling sloped high enough to put the horses inside and to create a fire without killing ourselves. Nothing inside suggested that a beast had made its home here.

Nearby, there was a cheerfully flowing spring. Perfect.

So, I mounted quickly, made a mark on a nearby tree, and raced off to find Aramis and D'artagnan.

After searching for about an hour, I finally found them. They had stopped and Aramis was checking D'artagnan's injuries on foot. D'artagnan was slumped over in his saddle and looked like he was about to pass out.

I coughed and Aramis whipped around, musket already in his hand. I sighed and called out, "We need to stop greeting each other with weapons, Aramis."

Aramis sighed in relief, "Rogue? Did you find something?"

I urged my horse into his view and nodded, "Yes. About a mile that way." I pointed over my shoulder, "It's a cave big enough to put the horses into, and to be able to light a fire without killing ourselves with smoke inhalation. I passed a lot of wildlife on the way here, so catching something to eat shouldn't be a problem." Just the thought of food made my stomach growl.

Aramis nodded and mounted his horse. "Lead the way then."

We arrived just as the sun was beginning to rise. I dismounted and turned to help Aramis.

It took a bit of pulling and huffing, but we got D'artagnan to the ground.

I left Aramis with the medical supplies and went to take the horses to water. I filled up the water skins while I was there and led the horses back to the cave.

I tied them to young trees that were tall enough and thick enough to hold them, then stripped the horses of their saddles. Completed with my task, and now wheezing from the effort that shouldn't have made me like this, I staggered back into the cave with my saddle bags and the water.

I dropped the bags next to Aramis, then began to build up a fire so he could boil the water for bandages. Once I was done, I stood up and began to walk towards the entrance of the cave. Intent on getting something to feed D'artagnan.

But, before I could go far, Aramis' hand closed on my bicep and yanked me over to him. "And what do you think you are doing, my friend?" He asked jovially.

"Uh. Hunting?" I replied back pitifully aware of how weak I sounded.

He clicked his tongue, "Tsk tsk. One would have thought, by the way that you speak, you would have more manners than that."

I gave him a confused look, "Uh. Sorry? What are my manners lacking at the present moment?"

Aramis just gave me a look, and it was surprisingly matched by an injured D'artagnan. It was one that warred between 'You're adorable' to 'You're a moron' yet 'Completely endearing moron'.

"You aren't going anywhere until you allow me to check your injuries, at the very least. Proper manners say that you graciously not insult the medic of the group by refusing medical assistance." Aramis explained slowly, like he was talking to a child. "Not, to add, of course, that I couldn't simply let a woman, who is injured no less, walk out without at least attempting to see if she can be fixed easily."

I ground my teeth together, "Fine."

Aramis clicked his tongue again, but gave me a real smile as a reward.

He led me over to where D'artagnan sat and forced me to sit down beside him. Then he lifted my shirt a bit and inspected my torso. He sighed and looked up at me with a disproving glance that made me feel like I was with my grandparents again. It was a look that most children knew, the one that said they care about you, but you are an idiot, and you shouldn't bother lying.

Then he pulled out the cloth strips from the boiling pot that had somehow managed to get there in a short time, and began to clean the injuries. After cleaning them, he stitched the bad ones. Once he was done there, he instructed me to remove my cloak and roll up my sleeves so he could get to my injured arm.

Honestly, I expected him to do what most honorable men do. Attempt to coddle me, tell me I shouldn't dress like a boy, and that I shouldn't be in this line of work.

Also, he should be horrified with how I'm acting.

"Hey, Aramis." I puffed as he tightened the bandage, "Why are you not treating me like a delicate flower needed to be protected? Like most men would do."

Aramis laughed, "Because, Rogue, I've had plenty of spitfire women in my life, and I can promise that you are the same. Had I told them what to wear, I would have slapped, I feel as though you would do the same."

I tipped my head, "Very true. I suppose you aren't as prideful as the rest then?"

He grinned at me, "What little pride I have left, I would like to maintain. Now, be still and let me finish."

I did as he asked, and soon my bleeding arm was wrapped and tended to. With no chance of infection setting in, I stood up once again and rolled down my sleeves.

I nodded to him, "Thank you."

He beamed at me and looked at D'artagnan, "See? I knew there was manners in there somewhere! At this rate, we can turn you into a French Gentleman!" He paused, "Or a Gentlewoman?"

I snorted and shook my head, "Good luck with that." I challenged him.

He gave me a mock hurt expression, "You wound me, Rogue. My very heart hurts."

I shook my head again and gave him a piteous look, "My deepest apologies monsieur. However, if you are so easily injured by such careless words, how is it that you can continue in your line of work?"

He grinned, "Spoken like a true wordsmith. I think Athos would like you."

D'artagnan gave me a small smile, "Porthos would like her too. He grew up with Flea, after all."

Aramis grinned at him, "She would like the court, wouldn't she? Probably fit in with Flea too."

When my father realized that I had better knack for swinging a sword around rather than playing the harp, he wasted no time in molding me into the son he never got the chance to have. With two older sisters, I was his chance to raise a fighter, not a damsel in distress.

He also realized that since I acted more like a boy, I could also pass for a very impish boy in the looks department too. My sisters had looked very much like my mother. Soft features and even softer demeanors. I, however, had the cutting features of a man with higher cheekbones, a stronger jaw line, and a tough 'bite me' demeanor. He wasted no time at all pretending that it wouldn't be proper.

I was basically a secret to most people anyway, it wasn't like it would do any harm to suddenly say 'Oh no, this is not a girl. It's just a very impish looking boy!' I didn't blame him. I thanked him. Last I heard, one sister was in an arranged marriage at the age of 24 with two kids, and the other sister was somewhere off in Ireland with a lord. Also with child. They were tied down, never to roam free again. But I was free. Thanks to my father.

He taught me how to act like a man would in certain situations, while my mother taught me how to act like a lady on the side. I could be both if I chose. But I preferred being a boy. I could do more, people were more willing to talk to me, and I wasn't berated for being a woman in comfortable clothes.

Plus, I could go anywhere I wished. And not be bothered.

I was a very good con artist when I wanted to be. And I really did look an impish boy, even years later when a normal girl would have started to actually look like a girl. My features had just hardened, making me look cut from ice. My figure didn't change much like a girl's usually did. Instead, I was leaner and narrower than any girl my age.

It was the perfect disguise. Plus, it was much more fun to act like a boy rather than a dignified lady.


	4. Chapter 4

"I can assume that this 'Athos' and 'Porthos' are the companions you spoke of earlier?" I inquired later as we ate. Aramis had actually gone out and shot a deer, refusing to let D'artagnan or I leave the cave with our injuries. 'I've had worse' was dancing on the tip of my tongue, but I bit it back. No need for him to know.

Aramis nodded, "Yes. They are no doubt wondering where we have gone. As much as I wish for the two of you to rest until you are completely healed, we are still too close to the fort to be safe. We'll leave after nightfall tonight. We are safer in darkness."

D'artagnan nodded and I grinned, "Don't let me hold you back. I've done well on my own for several years, thank you very much."

Aramis frowned. "How old are you?"

I smirked, "Why would you like to know? But, to satisfy your curiosity, I am 19."

Aramis' frown deepened, "What of your parents? How long have you been alone?"

I shrugged, "My parents are long since dead. I've been on my own since I was 12. I've managed well enough alone for years. I don't need a babysitter now."

Aramis gave me a wry grin, "And what of a friend?"

I looked up at him in slight surprise. D'artagnan was suddenly paying attention as well and turned to me slightly.

"Well, I suppose that I've never had need of a friend before. Everyone steered clear of me in the past. No one really wants to make a friend with someone who isn't going to stay." I muttered.

"Why don't you stay in one place?" D'artagnan questioned innocently.

I looked up at him, "Never had a reason too."

They both looked away from me at that. I shook it off and walked over to my saddle. I sat back down and leaned against it.

"You guys might want to get some rest too if we're leaving tonight. Wake me up, Aramis, in an hour and you can get some sleep too." I murmured. The only response that I got was a brief murmur of agreement.

I closed my eyes, and soon I was fast asleep.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you." I murmured as I felt someone move my sword slightly. I held a dagger in my right hand, and it was pointed at whoever was touching me.

I opened my eyes to see Aramis bent over me with a small smirk on his face. "Well then, you sleep like Athos. I was only attempting to remove your sword so you slept more comfortably."

I sat up, sheathing the dagger, and looked around the cave.

D'artagnan was asleep near the fire, and was wrapped in his cloak. As well as the cloak I last saw on Aramis. I looked outside to see the blaring sunlight brightening everything outside. It was most decidedly not an hour after I fell asleep. If I had to guess, it was around 3:00.

I sighed and looked up at Aramis. I got to my feet and threw my cloak at him. "Get some sleep, Aramis. I'll keep watch."

He looked ready to protest but I silenced him with a glare, "Don't bother. You will be no use to D'artagnan if you are falling asleep on your horse instead of being aware. I don't know about you, but I'd rather not get shot because one member of our odd little group isn't being watchful because he can't keep his eyes open. You didn't get any sleep since you got to the fort. I know, I heard you and D'artagnan arguing. So get some sleep."

He closed his mouth with a snap, offered me a wry grin, and laid down next to D'artagnan.

I smirked and began to make myself useful by cleaning up the makeshift camp, being as quiet as possible. Something that was easy for me.

By the time the sun had begun to set, the camp was completely spotless expect for the two lying by what used to be where the fire was.

I saddled the horses quickly, made sure everything was packed and in its proper place, then walked back into the cave to wake my companions.

I shook Aramis' shoulders lightly and he woke with a start. He leapt to his feet, gave me a fleeting glance, before walking outside with his hands going through his hair. I shook my head and picked up his hat before waking D'artagnan.

He groaned as he woke up. When his eyes were opened and semi focused, he glared at me. I snickered and held up my hands, "I apologize. It seems you need more beauty sleep. I'll tell Aramis so we can stay another day."

I heard Aramis laugh as he entered the cave, "Poor D'artagnan needs to be put into a life long sleep if it will help his looks. Unlike myself."

D'artagnan muttered some unsavory things in low French. I laughed, being close enough to hear him, and held my hand out.

He sighed, then allowed me to help him to his feet. "Thanks." He murmured quietly.

I grinned, twirling Aramis' hat in my hands before putting it on my head. I turned to the owner of said hat and asked, "So? What do you think?"

He pondered, tapping his chin, then shook his head, "Sadly, I do not think that hat suits you."

I clasped my hands to my heart, "Oh no! And here I thought I looked dashing! Oh well, I have my own hat. Somewhere in my saddle bags." I flipped the hat off of my head and onto Aramis'.

He smirked at me and I shrugged. I swung my cloak onto my shoulders and walked outside to the horses. After getting the black (Slightly rumpled) hat from my saddle bags, I straightened it out and put it on my head. It could technically be called a pirate style hat, but I liked it. It had a raven's feather sticking out of it that I had found months ago that added a certain charm to the good looking leather.

I enjoyed wearing it, and, if needed, I could pull it over my eyes and see, without people noticing I was watching. The thing with blue eyes is that everyone can see them easily. Although, because I wore dark clothing, my eyes were a lot darker, but they were still extremely bright.

And when I was observing people for a job, I didn't want to be noticed.

M

I considered hitting my head on a passing tree. Perhaps knock myself out.

It was now the 15th time Aramis had sung the exact same song….. That I didn't want to be stuck in my head all…. Damn….. day…

He had a great voice. But I just wish he'd sing something else!

D'artagnan looked like he was having the same problem I was having. He honestly looked ready to hurl himself off of his horse, and down into the raging river next to us.

I rolled my eyes, "Hey, Aramis, I don't think the Spanish know where we are yet. Sing louder."

He smirked at me as he sang the same verse again.

I stuck my tongue out at him, then decided to switch tactics.

I opened my mouth and began to sing an old Welsh song. It achieved the desired effect, and Aramis stopped singing. He turned in his saddle and stared at me with a small smile. D'artagnan stared at me with an open mouth and I stopped singing.

"Wait! Why'd you stop?" D'artagnan asked.

I gave them both an incredulous look. "What? Did you actually **like** my singing?" They both nodded, and I gave them a small smile. "Well… Thanks. My mother insisted I know how to perform lady-like things too. So I was taught how to sing at a young age. Didn't think I was actually good at it though…"

Aramis smiled at me. "Madame, you have the voice of an angel."

D'artagnan nodded vehemently.

I opened my mouth to respond, but at that moment, a musket ball zoomed past my head and my horse reared.

Unprepared for it, I fell backwards and hit the dirt.

Aramis shouted at D'artagnan to get away, and that he couldn't fight with his injuries, so he should move the horses out of the way.

D'artagnan, instead, decided to swing off of his horse, grab mine, tie his horse and mine together, then send them off and draw his rapier.

I rolled my eyes at him, mouthed 'moron', and drew my musket.

I took aim at the people beginning to come over the small ridge.

I could hear Aramis shouting, D'artagnan shouting back, the river raging near us, and the bangs of more musket's firing. The dirt shifting underneath me, and the tree's splintered around me as the balls got closer to where I was standing, completely in the open, aiming my musket.

I took a breath, then fired.

One man fell as my musket ball hit him square in the chest.

I put my musket back on my belt, then dived to the side behind a rock.

I could see people falling one after the other as Aramis fired at them. He was good, and he didn't miss.

As the shots lulled to a close, Aramis called out, "Would you like to surrender now? Or would more of you like to fall?"

One of the men, I assume the leader, shouted, in a very thick accent, "Why should we surrender to stupid Musketeers such as yourselves?" He spoke with speed, and the lilt every Spaniard had.

I coughed through a laugh, "Uh, because you aren't doing so well. There is three of us, none of us have fallen, I stood in the open even, and none of us even got **clipped**. Yet, how many of yours have fallen?"

Aramis coughed, "That was a good line, however, you and D'artagnan never need to be alone faced with enemies. Both of you will die because of your insistent taunting."

D'artagnan snorted, "Aramis, how many times have we gotten in trouble because of your quick tongue?"

"Now, D'artagnan, to which use are you meaning?" Aramis snarked.

D'artagnan hit his head on a rock with a muffled sigh.

"Enough!" The leader, who I was going to call moron from now on, snarled, drawing his sword. "Show me how well you are with sword! Instead of word!"

I nodded to Aramis, "Now _that_ was impressive wordplay."

Aramis shrugged, "I think you and I could do better, with less words."

"Now who's taunting?" I teased.

"God help me." D'artagnan muttered.

 _"_ _Vamanos!"_ Moron shouted and all of his soldiers streamed down the ridge, swords drawn.

"Well, this should be fun." I said with a grin.


	5. Chapter 5

I could see that people were still standing on the ridge, loading muskets, so I deemed to stay out of the line of fire. Unfortunately, that drug me away from Aramis and D'artagnan, and, as an added bonus, put me closer to a steep incline leading to the raging river below me.

Luckily though, the Spanish were apparently very bad swordsmen. Or at least, for my standards.

I cut one down and shoved him into his friend's sword, which sent them both back into the incline.

I ducked as the whistle of a sword arced above my head and twisted around, shoving my black dagger into the chest of the man, then pulling it out quickly and kicking him away as I parried another sword aimed at my neck.

I threw my hat into the air, distracting two of the five men I was facing, and slit my sword across their throats. I grabbed one of the fallen swords and spun both in my hands.

I parried two more thrusts as I angled my head to catch my hat. My hat fell over my eyes as I stabbed the two I was fighting with. Then I stepped back and twisted as a rapier stabbed through the air an inch from my nose.

"Now that isn't very good manners." I chided as I knocked the point of the sword away and twisted my hand, sending his sword flying through the air and into a tree branch.

I pointed my sword at his face and grinned wickedly at him. "Because I have good manners," I told him Spanish, "I will give you a choice. You can either keep fighting me, or, you can run now, and keep your miserable Spanish life." I tilted my head and grinned from under the brim of my hat so the only thing he could see was my white teeth. "What is your choice?"

I dropped the sword that wasn't mine and caught a dagger between my fingers right before it hit my stomach. I tsked and looked down slightly, "Pity. I don't really enjoy killing." I sighed, then a twist of my wrist made another soldier fall.

I cleaned my sword off and shoved it into the sheath, then looked up, adjusting my hat.

I couldn't hear D'artagnan or Aramis shouting anymore. In fact, I couldn't hear anything.

I tilted my head, and cautiously stepped from the tree line, looking around.

I looked down the road, and what I saw made my stomach drop.

Aramis was grappling with a Spaniard, Moron in fact, over D'artagnan, who was crumpled on the ground, facing me, with blood oozing past his hairline.

Aramis was getting pushed further and further towards the incline, and looked like he was lagging quickly.

Even from several yards away, I could see blood oozing from his leg, and it wouldn't hold him up for long.

I began racing towards them, drawing a dagger while I ran.

I saw the rocks shift underneath Aramis, and threw my dagger.

I could see two more people racing down the hill to my right, but ignored them for now. D'artagnan was half hidden under a bush, so he'd be alright if they didn't look too hard at him.

My hat flew off my head as I tackled Moron. My dagger had connected to his torso, which had given Aramis a slight advantage, but it didn't help him stay on solid ground.

I grabbed Aramis' arm with one hand, and drove my shoulder into Moron's injured side.

Moron grabbed my shoulder as he fell over the edge of the incline, and I began to go with him. I released Aramis' arm, but the idiot lunged at me, probably thinking he could save me.

Instead, it sent all three of us tumbling downhill, fast, into the raging water below.

I threw Aramis and Moron away from me, one uphill and one further downhill, and tried to stop my fall.

I failed. Spectacularly. In fact, I think it only made me go **faster**.

The last thing I saw before I passed out, was my feet hitting the ice cold water, and Aramis reaching for me, panic on his face and my name on his lips.

M

 _Porthos' POV:_

When Athos and I got to the garrison and found neither Aramis nor D'artagnan, we went to find them.

What I expected to find was Aramis or D'artagnan injured, but perfectly safe.

What I got, made me mad.

Aramis struggling, on the edge of a drop. D'artagnan, collapsed like a maiden at Aramis' feet. And a strange black clothed figure racing towards them with a dagger in his hand.

I had seen that black man fight just a sec ago as we came over the ridge, and I couldn't figure out if he was with Aramis, or with the Spanish.

The figure threw the dagger in Aramis direction, and it connected with the Spaniards side. I heard Athos shout something, but was too focused on the figure tackling the Spaniard and trying to push Aramis away.

Aramis, the idiotic moron, instead grabbed hold of the figure. And all three of them vanished over the drop as a result.

"I've got D'artagnan!" I heard Athos shout, and nodded before throwing myself over the incline, throwing my hat and cloak off as I ran. I ran downhill, trying to catch one of the two idiots that went over the edge.

Aramis had rolled to a stop very close to the edge, and was reaching over to the river shouting, "Rogue!"

He then began to scramble to the edge.

I grabbed his shoulder and threw him away from the river shouting, "I've got im! Stay there!"

I leapt into the river and swam to the floating man clad completely in black.

I caught him around the waist and began to haul him out of the fast moving current.

I threw him onto the bank once I got close enough, and scrambled out after him.

He had thick, curly black hair and pale skin. Definitely wasn't from around here. I put my head next to his chest until I heard a steady beat.

I could hear Aramis staggering over to me, shouting, "Is she okay?! Is Rogue okay?"

She?

I sat back on my heels and looked at the person in front of me, then shook my head. Could worry about that later.

"Yea." I barked at him before standing up, and throwing 'Rogue' over my shoulder. Whoever she/he was, she was too light.

I grabbed Aramis' arm and began to haul him up the incline, picking up my cloak and hat as I went, throwing them both over Aramis.

We finally struggled up the bank, where Athos was waiting, looking exasperated, but not grim. So the pup must be alright.

It's the little things, I'm sure.


	6. Chapter 6

_Porthos' POV:_

"So, care to explain to me why you are fighting Spanish soldiers?" Athos asked in his 'no nonsense' tone.

Aramis sat down beside D'art and checked his pulse. "Because, we were kidnapped by them. Rogue was as well." His hand gestured to the lady still on my shoulder. "She got us out and away. But the Spanish caught up with us."

"She?" Athos asked with a raised eyebrow. I hate it when he does that…

Aramis nodded. "She. She may look like a man, but she is not. She prefers to act like a man, however, because she has more freedom in it. And she apparently does not like dresses."

He sat back on his heels and rubbed his forehead, "I think our little pup will be alright. But we need to get out of here, quickly."

"After you see to your leg." Athos ordered.

Aramis sighed, then nodded. He stood up carefully and whistled.

At his whistle, three horses trotted over to us. Two of them were tied together. One was D'art's horse, and the other was a massive black war horse.

I shook my head, "Bit of a show boat, ain't she?"

Aramis grinned at me, "She is a very good person. I think you'll like her, Porthos."

Athos gave Aramis a look, "We are not keeping her, Aramis."

Aramis began to dig around in his saddle bags, "But she has nowhere else to go. She is 19 years old and has been alone for 7. I think she'd like Paris, and she looks enough like a man to pass for one. She's a good fighter, and a loyal friend."

Athos sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "You've known her for how long, Aramis? A day?"

"Two, actually." Aramis piped up. He looked up at Athos as he tied the bandage on his leg. "Athos, she can stay with me if she must. But I like her."

He gave Athos a pair of pleading eyes that Athos almost couldn't resist. I was already sold on the idea of keeping the kitten on my arm. If Aramis, someone who acted like a people person but was actually very reserved, liked her and wanted to keep her, that was good enough for me.

"I like her as well, Athos." D'art's tired voice floated up to us.

I looked down at the pup below me as he turned the power of his big brown eyes Athos' way.

"She did save both o' their lives, 'Thos." I pointed out helpfully. Athos glared at me in a way that said I was not being helpful.

I shot him a toothy grin.

Between the three of us, Athos couldn't say no.

Sure enough, Athos sighed and shook his head. "Fine. But if she makes a mess, you three have to clean it up. I'm not taking in anymore strays."

'Mis and D'art grinned at each other in response.

M

 _Rogue's POV:_

I woke up to the sensation of swinging. At first, I thought I was still in the water. But I felt dry, if a bit cold. I was bent in half, and swaying…..

I was on a horse.

I cracked open my eyes slowly. My throbbing head didn't need encouragement.

What I saw beneath me was my saddle, and beneath that, my black war horse.

I could feel that I was tied to the saddle. My sword belt was hanging over the saddle horn next to me, and the handle of my musket was poking out of my saddle bags.

I felt very sore. But very alive as well. So yay for that I suppose.

I tried to move, but groaned in pain as my headache flared at the unwelcome movement.

"Well, looks as though someone is finally waking!" Aramis cheerful voice floated over to me.

I moaned. "I don't want to. Wake me up in a few hours."

I felt someone ruffle my hair and I picked my head up to see Aramis grinning at me. "Sorry, kit, I think you have a concussion. Therefore, I need you to sit up. Hang on, let me untie your waist."

He leaned over me and began fiddling with something on my back.

"Kit? What kit? My name is Rogue. I've already told you that." I said tiredly.

I heard a tired D'artagnan laugh. "I am pup, so, since Aramis has decided to adopt you, you are now kit."

I sighed, "Joy." I drawled sarcastically.

I heard a huff of laughter and Aramis beamed at someone behind me, "See, 'Thos? Told you you'd like her."

The rope on my back was removed and Aramis patted my shoulder, "There, you can sit up now. Slowly. Would you like me to stop your horse?"

I shook my head, "No. I've done a lot on him. I'll be fine."

I reached back and grabbed the saddle horn and the cantle (The back of the saddle) and heaved myself upwards. I found the stirrup with one foot and swung the other leg around with a muffled groan. I landed heavily into the saddle and bent over the horn.

"I changed my mind. I'm dead. Totally dead. Leave me here and give me a touching funeral." I moaned.

Aramis threw his head back and laughed, before plopping my hat down on my head.

Then another voice I didn't recognize boomed, "Sorry, kit. You don't get to die now that you've made 'Mis like you." The voice was deep, and growly. But it was also filled with humor.

I turned to look to my left and found D'artagnan, and two others. One of them was a mountain of a man, with a toothy grin, sparkling, humor filled eyes, dark skin, and a scar. He honestly looked like the bear version of a man.

The other one stared levelly at me with calculating blue eyes that penetrated the darkness of night like blue fires.

I met his stare with icy determination. If I had to hazard a guess, the grinning one was Porthos, and the one trying to freeze me with his eyes was Athos.

"You are a woman." He said simply, in a level, silky voice.

I nodded. "Yes. Problem?"

"You dress like a man."

I smirked. "And?"

He blinked. "Why?"

"Because it's a lot more comfortable to move and fight without a dress. Have you ever worn a corset?"

He tilted his head to the side, as if consenting that one.

"Where did you learn how to fight?"

"My father."

"Why did the Spanish capture you?"

"Hell if I know. I was in England. Then I was here, listening to these two idiots argue in the cell opposite of mine."

He narrowed his eyes. "England?"

I nodded. "I'm from Wales originally. But I didn't want to go back after my parents died."

"How did they die?"

"Fire. Although, I heard the sound of musket fire before the house went up in flames. I chased a figure from the burning ruins. He traveled onto the road that led to England. I followed, knowing there was nothing left for me in Wales."

One eyebrow raised. "Why did you help D'artagnan and Aramis?"

"Because I wanted to. I couldn't leave them to die. It would weigh too heavily on my conscience." I gave him a smirk. "Now, am I done with the interrogation?"

I was graced with a twitch of his lips, then he dipped his head.

Aramis patted my arm and grinned at me. The moon reflected his white teeth brilliantly, and I could see the excited spark in his eyes.

"He likes you. Good job, kit!" He crowed joyfully.

I saw Athos roll his eyes, "I don't like her. But I will tolerate her for you three morons."

Porthos grinned in answer and I snarked back, "I feel so honored. Clearly, I just got bumped up from 'you annoying nuisance' to 'you tolerable nuisance'. Yay me."

Porthos boomed a laugh and clapped Athos' shoulder. "I like her already!"

D'artagnan and Aramis both grinned at me and guided their horses closer to mine.

"We can keep her. But you three still have to take care of her. I meant what I said earlier. I am done taking in strays. Also, you can fight with Treville." Athos said flatly.

"You say that now, but give her a week." Aramis said jovially.

Athos glared at him. "If you want your stray to survive in Paris, refer to her as 'he' in the public eye. Especially if you want to drag her along with us."

Aramis gave me a sidelong look, then shrugged, "Fine. As long as we can keep her."

I sighed, "Why do I not get a say in this?"

Porthos reached across D'artagnan to pat my shoulder, "Because, you made Aramis like you. And that don't happen every day. So you don't get no say in any of this. We're keepin you."

I sighed again, then threw Porthos a grin. "I suppose I could have thrown my lot in with someone worse."

Porthos boomed another laugh.


	7. Chapter 7

I watched the crackling fire in front of me tiredly. We had ridden for the rest of the night, and all day after. According to Athos, we were a days ride from Paris. So we would stay here for the night, the injured would get checked and their injuries taken care of, then we'd set off in the morning.

I had found a stream earlier as Athos built up the fire and cleaned up. Currently, my cloak was drying by the fire, since I had gotten it very muddy because of the swim I took earlier trying to save Aramis.

I was seated in front of the fire on my bedroll with my arm slung over one knee, wearing my pants, boots, and a loose tunic that was blue, instead of the black one I had on earlier. That one was drying next to my cloak as well, plus my other pair of pants.

My hat hung off a tree branch, as did my musket. My sword was right next to me though; I had been cleaning it, but stopped to take a break and watch the fire. One spot of dried mud wouldn't get off the blade completely, and my hands hurt from scrubbing it.

Athos and D'artagnan were taking the horses to water, and Aramis was cleaning up in the stream. Porthos was somewhere near me, cleaning his own musket.

I heard crunching near me and looked up to see Porthos next to me. He smiled at me before sitting down next to me, picking up my sword.

"Giving you a bit o trouble?" He asked as he held up the sword to inspect the mud spot.

I nodded with a sigh, "Yes. And I still need to clean off my daggers, and my musket. But that spot won't come off."

Porthos picked up my cleaning rag and began to scrub the blade, with a few swipes, the spot was off.

He grinned at my stupefied expression and said, "Sometimes, it just takes a bit of help to get spots like this off. That's why it's a good thing to have friends, you know?"

I nodded with a stupid grin, "Yeah. I know. I haven't had many friends though."

Porthos shook his head. "Who would watch your back, eh? Keep you outa trouble? Stopped you from making those stupid choices?"

I shrugged, "No one. Probably why I've gotten into so much trouble."

Porthos grinned at me, "Well, now, you can get into trouble with us. And we'll help you outa it."

I smirked, "I appreciate the thought, Porthos. But you might have a bit of difficulty with the second part of that statement."

He chortled at me, "You'd be surprised at how good we've gotten at it. I'm sure you can't be that much trouble."

I laughed, "You might be regretting your choice of words, Porthos."

He clapped my shoulder, "I'm sure I won't, kit."

I rolled my eyes, "Fine then, bear."

Porthos laughed at me again and I gave him a smirk before pulling out a few daggers from my boots. "Since you are in such a giving mood, would you mind helping me with these as well?"

He nodded and took a few of them, "Although, that depends on how good a cook you are."

I snickered, "I'm a fairly good cook."

Porthos shot me a toothy grin and took the rest of my daggers, "Then you can take my place as group cook tonight, while I will clean your pointy things."

I laughed and pushed myself off the ground, "Fair enough. I assume I need to go shoot something?"

He nodded, "Yep. I heard a few deer that way earlier." He pointed with one of my daggers to a group of trees.

I tipped my head towards him, strapped my sword belt on again, and grabbed my bow from my saddle. After tying my quiver to my back, I looked at my cloak still drying by the fire, and walked off into the darkness without it.

M

I crept through the trees, making no noise on the leafy ground, and looked around me periodically, waiting for something to appear.

I've always loved the dark, so I trained myself to be as adept in it as I was in the light.

I heard a crackle near me to my right, so I leapt onto a tree and scaled it noiselessly.

I perched onto an overhanging branch and nocked an arrow. I drew the string back and waited, motionlessly, as a wild turkey slowly stepped into the moonlight, followed by another one. Turkey's always traveled in pairs, and they were extremely easy to kill. All you really had to do was make a very loud noise and they would die of fright.

But the meat didn't taste as good, so I'd have to be silent.

I nocked another arrow, and aimed at both of them. I was a good shot with a bow, better than I was with a musket or a flintlock, so shooting two arrows at once was easy for me. I had difficulty with three, but I'd never really had to shoot three at once before.

I drew the arrows back to my cheek and took a deep breath, then released the string.

The arrows flew forward, striking both turkeys. One in the head, and the other in the heart.

I dropped to the ground and pulled out a dagger, better to do the field dressing here than at camp. Then, if there were any in the area, a bear or a wolf wouldn't wonder into our campsite.

I quickly got to work, and soon, I had two gutless, featherless, birds tied up with string.

I began walking, holding up the birds beside me, until I found the stream. I washed both of them off, as well as my dagger, my arrows, and hands. Once I was done, I began to walk back to the camp.

M

When I arrived back at camp, I found all four Musketeers sitting around the fire. Aramis was redressing D'artagnan's injury, Athos was leaning against a tree with his hat covering his eyes, and Porthos was cleaning both of my flintlocks. My daggers and my musket sat beside him, gleaming in the firelight.

When he saw me, he gave me a toothy grin. "Now, I ain't had a turkey in months. And you got two o em."

I smirked at him and hung the turkeys onto a tree branch as I began to put up a spittle.

M

I had found several herbs while walking back with the two turkeys, and now the turkeys were cooking with the herbs. And to be completely honest, I was starving, and they smelled way too good.

Porthos seemed to agree, because every minute that went by he would pick up his head to check the birds as he cleaned his own sword.

I poked the fire, sending the flames roaring up into the roasting turkeys.

I began to stand up to walk to my saddle bags for my waterskin, when I hand closed around my bicep and yanked me backwards. I fell into a solid chest and a pair of arms encircled me, "Now then, I am finished the D'art. So it's your turn." Aramis voice rang in my ears, and his beard tickled the side of my face.

"Fine. You don't have to get so violent about it." I said with a huff as I got off of him.

Aramis grinned at me as I sat down next to him and continued, "This is twice now that you have wondered off without seeking my help."

I rolled my eyes and slung an arm over my bent knee, "Seriously? I've been alone for 7 years, taken care of myself longer. It's going to be a tough habit to break, you know that right?"

He smirked at me and patted my knee, "Then I shall do my very best to insure you get it through your thick head that all of us will help you should you ask. Now, let me see your injuries."

I obeyed with a small sigh and looked around the fire. D'artagnan was grinning at me, Porthos was smirking at the flintlock pistol in his lap, and Athos was staring at me with a steady and calculating gaze, as though I was a great puzzle for him.

And I had a feeling he didn't like it when he couldn't solve something quickly.

I shivered even though I was near the fire, and wished suddenly for the warmth of my cloak.

At that time, something very warm draped over my shoulders. I looked up in surprise to see Porthos grinning at me. He had just thrown his cloak over my shoulders….. Why?

"Wouldn't want you to get sick o cold before we introduce you te Paris." He said simply with a small shrug before sitting back down.

I gave him a grateful smile and wrapped the cloak tighter around myself as Aramis checked the injury on my arm.


	8. Chapter 8

When I woke up the next morning, I woke before the sun rose, and before anyone else. But I couldn't go back to sleep, so I rose and threw my cloak over my shoulders.

I strapped on my sword belt, put my flintlock into my belt, already loaded, and replaced all my daggers to their rightful places. I put everything else into my saddlebags and brought my horse over to his large saddle.

I swung the saddle onto his back and began to cinch him up as he munched on the grass at my feet.

I threw my saddle bags over the back and began to tie them on, then a voice made me whip around.

"Leaving?"

I turned to see Athos standing up, leaning against a tree, watching me.

I crossed my arms, "You'd love it if I did, wouldn't you?" I smirked, "Sorry to disappoint you, your highness, but I'm staying. I get the feeling Aramis doesn't get attached easily, so there is no way I'm leaving him or D'art until they specifically tell me to get lost. Plus, with all the business with the 'sacred letter' or whatever, you guys seem to be diving headfirst into a lot of trouble. And there is no way in hell I'm leaving those three," I pointed to the still sleeping men around the fire, "To deal with it alone."

"They have me. They don't need you" He said flatly, glaring at me with his fiery blue eyes.

I scoffed, "Yes, that they do. But you are one man. And they may not need me, but D'art and Aramis certainly want to show me Paris."

Athos frowned, "If I do not trust you, nor like you, how long do you think their faith will last in you?"

I shrugged, "I have absolutely no clue. But I'm going to hang on as long as I can. How about this, hmm? I don't want to tear you four apart, you seem too close for that, and I've already torn my family apart, I don't want to do it for someone else's. So, this is what I'll do. I'll stay in Paris for a month, I'll stick with Aramis, Porthos, and D'artagnan. I will leave you alone, and be the least bit annoying towards you as I possibly can. In return, you can do whatever you like with the knowledge I am not permanent. Then, at the end of that month, I will leave forever, and never look back. I will never darken your doorstep again, and I can go back to England and attempt to avoid the king so I can keep my head. But, I would like to know one thing, why do you hate me so much when you don't know me?"

Athos took a few steps forward until he was right in front of me, so close that I could see his chest rise and fall, but I didn't step back. I just raised my chin and stared back at him with icy defiance.

"Because you remind me too closely of someone who ruined my life, and killed my brother." He growled lowly.

I smirked wickedly, "Sorry there princess, but the only place I've ever been to in France is the southern border, and I've never killed anyone on France soil before. The only people I've ever known in France is around this fire."

"She was from England." He said flatly.

I shrugged, "I don't really make it a habit to deal with murderous women, too much drama for me."

He sighed, "You will tell them nothing of our agreement?"

I nodded, "Nothing. And at the end of this month, you can pretend I never existed."

He narrowed his eyes, "You will not hurt any of them when you leave?"

I rolled my blue eyes, "Please. I like them too much. No, I will simply tell them that, as a traveling renegade, I can't stay in one place too long, let them down easy, maybe buy them a few drinks, then leave at night when they are too drunk to notice me leave. They will rest easy the days after with you there to guide them, and with the secure knowledge that this renegade had too much of a wild spirit to stay tied to one place. How's that?"

"Poetic." He said dryly. "But it will do. At the end of this month, you will leave, and you will never return. Nor bring any of your…" He curled his lip, "Friends, with you. If you hurt any of them before you leave, I can promise you that the hangman's noose would be kind compared to what I will do."

I saluted, "Duly noted. Now please, personal space?" I held out my hands and pushed him backwards a few paces.

He dipped his head towards me, then walked back to the tree he had been leaning on beforehand and sat down, pulling his hat over his eyes.

I took a step back and turned around, putting my head on my horse's neck. Dealing with Athos was more draining than running a mile….

But, I wanted to get to know Aramis, D'art, and Porthos better, and maybe be their friend. So if I had to play nice with Athos to do that, so be it.

How hard could it be really?

M

"We'll be there soon, Rogue!" Aramis said excitedly for the fifth time in half an hour.

I laughed, "You seem excited, Aramis. Did you miss your home that much?"

He gave me a sidelong grin, "I am excited, dearest Rogue, to show you my fair city! The sights! The smells! The people! The taverns! The food! Everything I can, I will show it to you."

D'artagnan nodded and grinned at me, "And we'll help!"

Porthos gave me a toothy smile, "You ain't lived 'till you seen a Paris sunset on the rooftops."

I laughed, "Well, I look forward to seeing all of it."

Out of the corner of my eye I saw Athos staring determinedly at the horizon, where the promised Paris should soon be appearing.

I waited 10 more minutes, then I saw it. It was gorgeous. I could see the bell towers, the palace, the buildings, and the hustle and bustle of the midday people shuffling around, shouting, running, chatting, and basically acting out a normal day.

I grinned, I think I was going to like it here.

Even if it was for a month.


	9. Chapter 9

The first week of four flew by extremely fast, but I was having a lot of fun.

D'art introduced me to Constance, and she took one look at me and said, "I applaud you for not dressing in uncomfortable clothing." The look on poor D'artagnan's face when he realized he was extremely slow on the uptake was priceless, and I made sure to give Constance flowers as a thank you for the wonderful laugh.

Now she insisted on feeding me at least every other night.

Porthos had introduced me to a blond woman named Flea, and I had to laugh when I first met her. Because _of course_ Porthos accepted me so quickly. He had grown up with Flea, how could he be prejudiced?

I had stayed out of Athos' way as much as possible, and in return, he didn't speak to me unless he had to.

I know that Aramis noticed, but I don't think he really cared. He was too excited about showing me Paris. In the first week, he had drug me to every place he loved, like well-kept taverns, a cathedral he visited often, and an orphanage where he would play with the children and assist the Nuns every Friday and every Monday. I had found that the kids adored me.

Although, I think they adored my acrobatics more than me.

In fact, that's what I was doing now. I was currently standing in the center of a large hoard of children ranging from the age of 3 to the age of 12 while Aramis tried to encourage the newest boy to come out from behind the head Nun's back.

I was only half paying attention to him though, I was more intent on grinning at the small hoard of children watching me with awe and admiration clear on their faces.

I had removed my cloak and my weapons, they were now hanging in the storage closet near the entrance. It would be tricky to perform with them on, plus, I didn't really want to hurt any of the midgets in front of me.

"Ready?" I asked a stupid question with a gleeful grin.

"Yes!" A chorus answered eagerly in reply.

I laughed and held out my hands, "Okay then, step back a bit, okay?"

They nodded so fast I thought they might lose their heads and stepped back several paces, watching me with fascination and apprehensiveness.

I winked at them, before flipping backwards and onto the top of the bench behind me. I bowed, tipped my hat to them, before leaping sideways, and curling into a ball to roll to the ground. The moment I connected, I rolled, then leapt to my feet and did another backflip.

Now I was close to the lowest scaffolding, so I leapt up into the air and grabbed the wooden beam, pulled myself up, and leapt onto the thin board, balancing with expert practice.

I pointed to the sea of fascinated faces below me and ordered, "If I see any of you trying to copy me, I won't ever do this again."

They all stared at with horrified expression that made me grin and shouted, "We won't! We won't! Don't stop!"

I bowed to them again, then winked before leaping and flipping forward, landing on the next beam. Then, purposefully, I tittered uncertainly, feigning difficult with my footing.

I wobbled my arms out and shouted, "Oh no! I'm gonna fall!" Then I tumbled sideways.

One of the boys yelled out in alarm, and all of them gasped, including Aramis, who looked up at me horrified alarm.

At the last second, I curved my legs around the wooden beam and swung there with my arms waving at the stupefied children below me. I laughed and gleeful said, "It worked! Didn't think it would for a second!"

Aramis shook his hand and shot a charming smile to the nun, "And on that note. We'll be off before Rogue finds a way to kill himself."

I crossed my arms as he got closer to me. I was hanging low enough that my face and his were level. "You're no fun, Aramis." I pouted.

He rolled his eyes playfully at my statement and grabbed my shoulders, "I can be plenty of fun. When the fun doesn't involve a friend attempting voluntary breaking something for the sake of giving me a heart attack. Honestly, are you trying to give me grey hairs prematurely?"

I scoffed and he stepped back from me, allowing me to flip down and land on my feet. "It isn't my fault you have such a weak heart, dearest Aramis."

All the kids around us laughed and tugged on my pant legs, "Don't go yet, Rogue! Please!" One 8 year old girl named Analise begged me with her big green eyes.

"Yea. Downt leaf yet, Roge" The 4 year old clinging to her begged me around her thumb.

I laughed and bent down to hug both of them, kissing both of them on the forehead. "Don't worry, dear ones. I shall return."

"Prowise?" The 4 year old, Sasha, asked me with her wide brown doe eyes.

I nodded, "Pinky." I held out my pinky to her and she stared at it in confusion. I laughed and took her own hand, then wrapped my pinky around hers. "That means that I can't break my promise now. That's what a pinky promise is. It's a promise you intend to keep at all costs." I explained to the wide eyed children around me. I subtly noticed the shy boy from earlier with black hair had stepped closer, and was watching me with as much attention as the others were.

I ruffled Sasha's hair, "So that means, I have to keep my promise. And that I shall return to you soon, _rhai anwylaf._ " The welsh flowed smoothly over tongue, and it caused all of them to stare at me.

"It's Welsh. Perhaps one day, you'll learn the meaning." I said with a wink. "Wales was my homeland, so it's my favorite language."

They 'oohed' at me and I laughed, waving to them as I followed Aramis out after I collected my things.

M

"I do believe if you asked them to, they would do anything you wanted." Aramis said with a grin as we walked away from the orphanage.

I smiled warmly, "They're adorable kids. Thank you for introducing me, Aramis."

He threw an arm over my shoulder, "So, I trust you are enjoying Paris?"

I grinned, "Of course I am. How could I not?"

He perked up and smiled warmly at me, his brown eyes dancing. "Great! So, you'll stay with us in Paris for longer?"

My thoughts strayed to my promise to Athos. "Perhaps." I said vaguely.

Aramis pouted, until he saw someone in the crowd in front of us and smiled again. "Athos!"

He drug me over to said man, who looked torn between happy to see Aramis, and annoyed to see me. I shot him a go lucky grin. I know that I had promised to stay out of his way and do my best not to annoy him, but his annoyed face was too good to pass up golden opportunities.

"Hello, Aramis. Terrorizing small children again?" Athos asked dryly as Aramis gave him a hearty clap to the shoulder.

Aramis gasped, feinting being wounded, and draped himself over my shoulder. "Did you hear the mean thing he said to me, Rogue?"

I rolled my eyes, "You were terrorizing small children, Aramis."

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Athos' lip twitch in a half-smile before going back to a firm line. Well, seems as though hope is everywhere nowadays.

Aramis clasped his heart and stumbled away from both of us shouting, "And I thought you were my friends!" He cried ruefully, and overly dramatic, as per usual.

I rolled my eyes again, and saw the action matched by Athos. I gave him a smirk and in return, he rolled his eyes at me. But it seemed fonder than it had been a few days ago.

I shook my head at Aramis' antics, but froze as I heard something that sounded off.

The click of a hammer being drawn back…

I didn't think about it, I lunged forward, tackling both Athos and Aramis to the ground, as a musketball whizzed over our heads. At the exact place Aramis had been standing only a moment before.


	10. Chapter 10

I froze for a fraction of a second, before leaping to my feet and drawing my sword, whipping around the face the man standing about 10 feet away from me, scowling. His cruel face was covered in scars, and his black eyes glittered dangerously.

The people in the street had begun to scatter at the gunshot, screaming, but when they saw me draw my sword, they vanished a lot faster.

One thing about being such a dark looking person, the moment I draw a black blade and grin wickedly, it made e _veryone_ scatter. A few friends had actually related me to the Horseman of Death. In fact, I'm fairly certain that if you whispered that title throughout England, people would shiver and think of me. Or, they would rejoice because of the Rogue Angel.

Needless to say, I was popular throughout England.

I was not, however, certain that if I told big and bad my reputation he'd know what I was talking about.

With the people now gone, I could see that there wasn't just one man, there was four of them. However, the center man was the tallest, and looked to be a challenge. So I pointed my sword at him and laughed, "You're a worse shot than any I've seen before!"

He snarled at me and drew his own sword. A sword I hadn't seen outside of Scotland often.

A claymore.

My longsword was strong, and made with extremely thick metal. That being said, if I didn't block the claymore correctly, it would break the blade in two, and probably severe me. All in one blow.

I hated fighting claymores. I hated using them, and I hated fighting them.

If I had my cutlass, I'd be fine. Cutlass' were curved, so you could hook the blade on your opponents and yank their sword from their hand, which made fighting a big sword so much easier. But, alas, my cutlass was still on my saddle, which was with my horse where he rested in the garrison stable beside Aramis'.

Hindsight is always twenty-twenty I suppose.

"I've got the big one!" I shouted to the two men getting to their feet behind me.

Aramis drew his rapier and asked, "You sure you want to tackle that one alone?"

I threw a grin back over my shoulder at the two of them, "Nah, just thought you two would enjoy taking on the ninja with shurikens currently running towards you."

It was true, a man dressed in tight black clothing flipped through the air and landed five feet in front of Aramis with a cruel smile. He had three shurikens in each hand, and he flipped them around menacingly.

"I suppose that gives me the two ugly ones then." Athos commented dryly.

I ducked as the claymore whistled over my head and called out, "Only the best for you, Athos."

Aramis was having difficulty parrying six daggers at once, but he still managed to call out, "Wouldn't want you to feel left out of course."

I tuned them both out as I attempted to dodge the claymore's swing. I didn't want to parry it with my longsword which usually was very menacing, but compared to the ginormous sword trying to decapitate me, it looked like a hunting knife.

I leapt over a low swing and flipped backwards, slamming into the stone wall of an alley.

I hit the ground as the claymore swung for my head, then rolled away and leapt to my feet.

I swung my sword at the giant's legs, but the claymore blocked me, and the force of his swing actually sent tremors through my sword and forced me to let go. It flew through the air and landed somewhere near Athos' feet as he fought two people at once.

I lunged to the right as the claymore swung at me again. Although, I wasn't fast enough, and the blade sliced my bicep. I ground my teeth to stop from crying out and backed away as fast as I could.

He lunged at me again with his sword and I backed up to fast I hit the wall again.

This time though, I rebounded off of it and used my momentum to flip over the giant's head and land on his shoulder. I drove his face into the wall before hugging his neck, completely hanging from him, and attempting to strangle him.

If he was normal sized, the hit to the face would have stopped him for at least 3 minutes, allowing me the time to take him out.

This guy though, merely shook his head and snarled at me, dropping his sword and swiping at me. At least he was smart enough not to swing at his own back with the claymore.

I attempted to squeeze his beefy neck, but all that I did was cause more annoyance than actually accomplishing my task.

I scrambled around on his back, trying to avoid his grabby hands, but he eventually managed to grab my leg and jerk me off his back.

I was now hanging upside down as he shook me violently by my leg, I felt something pop in my leg and mentally cursed him in every language I knew. I knew my leg wasn't broken, but it would be sore for a while. Pulled muscles aren't the best things in the world after all.

As if my day couldn't get worse, the giant decides now would be a grand time to throw me…. At a solid brick wall….. Fun…..

I connected and slid to the ground. I crumpled to the ground and went limp for several seconds, trying to get my bearings back.

Unfortunately the not-so-friendly giant didn't want time outs. Perfect!

I struggled to push myself to my feet as the trembling ground shook more violently as the giant pounding towards me. In my attempt to rise to my feet, my hand hit something…. I looked up to see an iron rod sitting on the ground in front of me.

Well, we were near a blacksmith I suppose.

I reached out and grabbed the rod, then propelled myself to my feet. The rod was up to my shoulder in height alone, and was almost like a staff. I wasn't the best at fighting with a staff, but as needs must and all that.

I swung the rod around in my hands and cracked it against the giant's face. He crumpled like a sack of flour.

Oh…. Sure! I smack you into a _freakin wall_ and you don't do a damn thing, but if I tap you with a stick, you faint. Suuuuuuure!

I rolled my eyes angrily and staggered out of the alleyway, using the rod to help me.

When I made it back to the street, I didn't exactly like what I saw.

Aramis was still struggling with the ninja wannabe, and now had several slices all over his body. And Athos, grand master swordsman extraordinaire, was pinned against a wall by one man, while another was winding up to take his head off with a broadsword.

I made an executive decision and drew two daggers. I whirled them around in my fingers for a fraction of a second, aimed, then threw.

They sailed through the air before one imbedded itself into the man pinning Athos' back, making him crumple to the ground immediately. The other one buried itself in the chest of the man with the broadsword. He looked up at me in surprise, before crumpling to the ground. Freeing Athos completely.

I barely registered him staring at me with slight respect shining in his eyes before I was swinging the iron rod at the ninja guy.

The rod hit him solidly in the back of the head, and he crumpled to the ground. If he wasn't dead yet, he'd feel **wonderful** tomorrow! Just like I would…. Such a pity; truly, I wept for them.

I leaned heavily against the rod and looked at Athos and Aramis, both of whom were getting their breaths back.

"Well, I feel splendid. How about the pair of you?" I asked sarcastically. "I have a question, what is a Chinese assassin, a Scottish warrior, and two Spaniards doing together, and why the hell did they go after us first and foremost? Also, I know I volunteered to take on the jolly red giant, but why did you two let me idiotically proceed? I'm not going to be walking correctly for days!" I cried dramatically.

Aramis laughed, "Yes. I agree, I think you would have fared better against this acrobat." He kicked the Chinese man lightly. "And I think Athos would have been better paired against, as you put it, the jolly red giant. And I could have charmed the Spaniards better."

I rolled my eyes, and saw Athos shake his head.

Athos limped over to Aramis and checked him over. I could see a wound in Athos' leg that bled steadily, and the blood rushed out more when he moved it.

I rolled my eyes, self-sacrificing idiot.

"So are you." He said dryly, looking me over now that he was done with his inspection of Aramis.

At first I thought he had read my mind, but then I realized I had spoken out loud. I blushed slightly, but swallowed down my embarrassment.

"I think you are better at it than I." I fired back as he stepped closer to me. He bent down and picked up my sword as he approached me.

I fought the urge to back up, the entire past week and half, he had avoided me like the plague, and would cast doubtful, untrustworthy death glares my direction every once and while.

Instead of giving me a death glare, he nodded to me and put my sword back into it's sheath on my hip. Then he grabbed my jaw gently, turning me head so he could see the side of my face clearer. Oops, did I forget to mention the cut that was steadily oozing blood because of my trip into the wall?

"I trust that the 'jolly red giant' is now not walking?" He asked dryly.

I grinned sheepishly, "Not after he tried to convince me I could go through a brick wall."

"And your leg?"

"He decided I was a doll for him to shake, while I was upside down, and he was holding my leg."

"Your arm?"

"Claymore. Couldn't get out of the way fast enough."

He clicked his tongue and gave me a flat look. Unlike the other looks sent my way from him, this one wasn't hatred. It was exasperation.

"Training. In the garrison. Tomorrow morning. You will have to learn to be quicker. And to fight someone bigger than you." He stated before stepping away.

I saw Aramis grin happily at me and wink, he was definitely happy that Athos didn't hate me now.

I bent down and picked up his hat and plopped it back onto his head.

"Well, as much fun as this was, I think we should talk to Treville about this. After we get cleaned up." He declared. "Rogue, will you help me with this one seeing as you have the big stick?" He gestured to the assassin and I sighed before taking one arm and pulling him up between Aramis and I.

Athos walked behind us, and whenever either of us would stumble, he would put his hand on our shoulders and push us upright again.

And I actually found myself grinning. Perhaps I could stay in Paris after all….


	11. Chapter 11

Needless to say, Treville wasn't happy. I had met the man on several occasions, and he already had my respect. But I also couldn't happen to suspect he knew I was a girl, but chose not to comment.

When we took the assassin to the garrison, he had been on the balcony. He took one look at us, barked for Colman and Fluer to take the assassin for questioning, then ordered us to give a report after we received medical assistance.

He took one look at me, then tilted his head towards his office, "Except for you, Rogue. My office, now."

I could see Porthos and D'artagnan approaching Athos and Aramis, so I nodded and began to walk towards the stairs.

Aramis reached for me, but Athos shook his head and gave me a solid stare. "Be honest. Don't talk without reason. Stay on point and don't dance around the subject like you have a very annoying habit of doing. Understand?"

I nodded, then began to stagger my way towards Treville's office, where he awaited me at the top of the stairs. I felt as though this was a test of strength, so I put the iron rod down at the bottom of the stairs and walked upwards, ignoring my aching leg profusely, and my cracked ribs which had made themselves known quickly after we had begun walking back.

When I reached the top of the stairs, my cheek ached from how much I bit it trying not to cry out in pain. I figured out very quickly that the world didn't pity anyone who cried. Especially if that person was like me. The only thing crying would accomplish was a quicker death, or a more painful torture.

Treville dipped his head to me, then walked into his office, leaving the door open for me. I followed him inside and the silent command came from him, "Close the door."

I obeyed and stood with my back straight and my arms folded behind me. I felt like I was with my grandfather again, waiting to be reprimanded for taking my sisters doll.

Treville sat down at his chair and reclined, contemplating me. After what seemed like an eternity under his calculating gaze, he motioned to the chair in front of his desk, "Sit."

I tried to gracefully sit down, but halfway down, my leg finally decided to give out, and I collapsed heavily in the sturdy wooden chair.

Treville raised an eyebrow, but I waved my hand. "I'm fine. I've had worse." I huffed, stretching my leg out to the side as it cried out in pain.

Treville sighed in exasperation, before drawing out a small bag from his desk and throwing it at me. I managed to catch it and looked at him curiously until he shook his head and stared at me with an expression so full of sarcasm that I almost jerked back in surprise.

"So, among the many skills you possess, medical knowledge is not among them?" He asked sarcastically.

I smirked despite my pain and fired back, "Oh, I'm terrible certain that I have no clue what to do with medical knowledge. It isn't as if people like trying to kill me weekly."

"Not daily?" He replied with a raised eyebrow.

I tilted my head to the side, "Sometimes."

He shook his head, "You may doctor yourself as we talk."

I nodded to him and opened the bag, "And what, oh fearless leader, are we talking about?"

"You." He said simply as I pulled out a roll of gauze. "I want to know where you came from, why you are here now, and the life you have lead up to this point. I also want to know why a girl knows how to fight as well as any assassin I've seen before."

I didn't freeze, but my heart did skip a beat. So he did know.

I rolled up my sleeve and dapped my injury with a strong smelling paste as I answered. "I was born in Wales the youngest of two elder sister, one loving mother, and one loving father. Unlike my two sisters, I did not like anything girlish, nor dressing like a lady, no matter how much my mother wanted me to. Seeing this, my father found that he could still have the son he had wished for. A strong person, loyal and trustworthy, resistant to pain, a great fighter, smart and calculating, and hard, not soft like a woman was. Don't misunderstand, he adored my sisters, and doted on them as much as he could. Whatever they desired, they received. I, on the other hand, learned the value of getting what I wanted on my own, and using my intelligence to either gain it through shear cunning, or through manipulation.

"He taught me numerous different languages, how to read and write in all of them, how to fight, how to hunt, how to shoot and use other weapons with ease, he taught me to always hold myself with confidence and pride, he taught me not to fear others, and he taught me to protect those who could not protect themselves."

I looked up at Treville and smirked as I finished wrapping my arm, "Of course, my mother taught me things as well. As much as I hated it, she did teach me to act like a lady. How to please, how to charm, how to sing, how to play instruments, how to sew, how to heal, how to dance, and how to act and hold myself like a proper lady should. However, along with those lessons, I learned to fight in a dress. So I suppose it wasn't all boring."

Treville huffed in what could be called a laugh, then waved his hand for me to continue.

"My two sisters were married off at young ages, since my father wanted the best for them, and I was kept home to help with my father's business of making weapons. However, at the age of 12, I was coming home from delivering swords to the local blacksmith, when I heard a gunshot upon approaching my family's manor. Through the window, I could see my father fall. Another gunshot, and my mother followed him.

"The figure I saw through the window then threw a lantern onto the ground, which engulfed my home in flames." I looked down as I wrapped the pulled muscle on my calf to provide some support. "I knew there was no salvaging anything, so I followed the figure. They fled on the road leading to England, so that is where I went. The only things I have of my family now is a journal my mother made me when I was 10, and the black sword I carry which my father made for me when I 11."

"At England, I carried out my father's teachings. I protected those who couldn't protect themselves, and I caused as much havoc to spoiled noble murderers as I could." I raised my head and stared at Treville with icy eyes, "I'm not popular with the King of England. In fact," I gave him a feral grin, "My head is scheduled for the chopping block when I return."

He rolled his eyes, "Then you are a perfect fit for my Musketeers." He leaned forward, "Are you not planning on staying in Paris? Aramis seems to have gotten quite attached to you, not to mention D'artagnan and Porthos. And it seems that Athos had grown fond of you as well."

I snorted, "He's the reason why I can't stay. He doesn't like me, and I promised him that I'd leave after a month was up so I didn't tear apart his family like I did mine." I looked down, "My sisters didn't like me, and I was part of the reason why they left so quickly. I don't want to do that to another family again."

Treville scared me then, by putting his hand on my shoulder. I looked up at him and he gave me a half smile, "When you three walked into the Garrison, I knew that Athos had begun to change his mind by how close he walked beside you."

"He just didn't want me to fall and drag Aramis with me." I defended weakly. To be honest, I wanted Athos to like me. I wanted him to tell me I could stay. I respected Athos, and would obey his wishes.

Treville shook his head, "No. If that was true, he would have walked beside Aramis, as far away from you as possible. Instead, he walked behind you, with his hand hovering behind you, prepared to catch you should you fall." He leaned back, "Athos hasn't been the best at showing what he's thinking, unlike his protégé. But try to understand that Athos doesn't like people interfearing with his family. And here, his family comprises of myself, D'artagnan, Aramis, and Porthos. No one else. Any who should try to force themselves into that circle doesn't win Athos' trust, nor a place in his family. However, he changed his mind with D'artagnan, simply because the boy didn't give up, and showed Athos that he had a right to try. Athos decided that the boy would live longer with his help, and eventually, Athos allowed another brother."

My heart thudded, I wanted to believe Treville. And I had the feeling he knew exactly what he was talking about, but it was hard to allow myself to hope. I hadn't had a family to call mine in so long, so it would just be cruel to allow myself to hope, then to have that hope destroyed yet again.

"Tell me, has he offered to train you?" Treville asked with a knowing look on his face.

I nodded, "Yes. I didn't do too well in the last fight, so Athos ordered me here tomorrow for training on fighting someone bigger than me."

He smiled smugly, "Then that's one point for me."

I rolled my eyes, "I expect you want a report now that you're done interrogating me?"

He consented, so I told him all about the fight, and how they came out of nowhere.

When I was finished, he looked troubled. He stood up and paced to the window, where he looked out into the garrison yard and folded his hands behind him.

"Do you know something about this?" I asked, standing up, and almost falling over because of my leg and my ribs, one of the two I hadn't wrapped because I would probably need help to get it done properly.

"I might know something similar to this. However, it is of no concern to you at this time. You're excused." He said it like an order, even though the phrase itself was a suggestion.

But I didn't argue, I just put the med bag on his desk and limped out of his office, closing the door behind me.

The moment I began to step down the stairs, I heard three voices call out, "Rogue!" And I couldn't help but smile when I turned and was met with three worried faces, and one smirking face with bright blue eyes filled with mirth.

 **Hey guys! Sapphire here! I hope that I didn't make Treville too OC in this chapter, but I've always seen him as the silent** **encourager** **, and the knower of all... Oh well.**

 **Are you guys enjoying the story so far? I know it's a bit confusing right now, but I'll tie in everything as the story progresses. ;)**

 **ST**


	12. Chapter 12

I barely made it down the stairs before Porthos was lifting me into the air as if I weighed nothing more than a kitten…. Maybe that's why they called me kit. Stupid nickname.

Porthos looked me over, "Where are you hurt, kit?"

I grinned and patted his head, "I'm fine, Porthos."

He glowered at me, "You're limping, and favoring your ribs. That ain't 'fine', kit."

I rolled my eyes, "First, I'm not a kit, I'm Rogue. Second, if you are so convinced I'm hurt, then why are lifting me off the ground?"

He gently set me down, and the moment my feet were on the ground, Aramis was in front of me. He cradled the side of my face with his hand and gently prodded the cut on my forehead. I hissed as he poked the injury and tried to jerk my head away. He kept it in place though and muttered, "Stand still. I don't understand why Treville just _had_ to speak with you before allowing me to at least wrap your injuries."

I rolled up my sleeve, "I got most of them, Aramis. Don't worry about me."

He rolled his eyes and scoffed, "I can worry about my friends, Rogue. And did you put anything on the injury to stave off infection? Did you stitch it up?" I shook my head, knowing that he had me, "Alright, then I am entitled to worry."

I sighed, about to reply, until Treville's voice called out, "Athos! Aramis! My office, now!"

Aramis sighed, then pointed threatingly at me, "You will stay at the garrison, or I will hunt you down."

"We will." Athos corrected, giving me a meaningful glare.

Those two simple words made my heart warm, and I grinned at both of the mischievously, "Then you'll have to be quicker than my patience." I fought to keep my voice steady against the onslaught of giddiness attacking me, "And I warn you, I have very little patience."

Athos turned to D'artagnan, "Do not let her out of the garrison. Understand?"

D'artagnan nodded, and with that, Athos and Aramis limped up the stairs.

Once the door closed behind them, I turned and began to limp away.

"Wait! Where are you going?" D'art asked as he fell into step beside me, Porthos on the other side of me.

I grinned at him, "Don't worry, D'art. I'm just going to sit down, my leg is killing me. I'm not so stupid as to walk out when both Aramis **and** Athos threatened me if I left. Besides, my ribs need to me bound, or they will get really painful soon."

"Oh, well, if that's what you're doing, this way." He consented, taking my arm and leading me over to a table pushed away from the other tables.

"This ere's our table." Porthos rumbled with a grin as he sat down on one side.

D'artagnan and I sat down on the other side and readjusted myself so there was less pressure on my ribs, but it only made them hurt worse. I sighed in defeat, which, of course, made them spark with pain.

D'art and Porthos watched me with a mixture of sympathy and bemusement.

I glared at Porthos and grumbled, "You want the cracked ribs? I'll gladly trade with you." Not that I ever really would, but saying it made me feel slightly better.

Porthos just laughed and gestured to me, "Come ere, kit."

I stood up and shuffled over to his bench muttering, "M not a kit."

I sat down next to him and looked up expectantly, waiting for him to do whatever he was planning.

Then he grabbed my shoulder and gently forced me to lie down on his lap, stretching out helped my ribs phenomenally, and I smiled as I got comfortable with my head pillowed on Porthos' lap.

I saw D'artagnan peek over the table and he grinned at me while Porthos laughed and asked, "Better?"

I nodded, "Much." I purred with a smile.

Porthos laughed again and tapped my nose, "Tha's why you're kit."

I frowned at him, then sighed mentally, knowing I wouldn't win, so I just hissed half-heartedly at him, which earned me another chuckle.

Then he and D'artagnan began to talk about something, something about food I think, and I closed my eyes. I drifted to sleep with the comforting rumble of Porthos' voice.

M

 _Aramis' POV:_

When Athos and I finally got out of Treville's office, I looked around the yard, fully expecting not to see Rogue.

My eyes landed on our table to see D'artagnan and Porthos talking, but no Rogue.

I huffed as we descended the stairs, fully prepared to yell at both of them for letting Rogue go, when Athos touched my arm lightly. I turned to face him, and he pointed to the bench Porthos sat on, then to the end of it that he wasn't sitting on.

A pair of legs dangled off the edge of the bench, and I almost laughed. Rogue was there, but she was laying on the bench.

I padded over to our table with Athos treading silently behind me, and when we got close, Porthos looked up at us and grinned. He grinned in a way I hadn't seen him do for a long time. Sure, he was happy around us, and he would get part of that glint in his eye when he teased D'artagnan, but it was only a small part.

What was in his eyes now made me smile brightly. Joy, humor, affection, mirth, love, warmth, giddiness, and flattery. He put a finger to his lips and spoke quietly, yet his voice carried across the distance between us easily.

"Kit fell osleep. Figured the bes' way to keep er ere was to get er to sit down. She was uncomfortable though, so I offered this, and she jumped on the chance." He pointed to his lap, and I peeked over the table to see Rogue laying there with a content smile on her face, and only a bit of pain. Nothing like earlier.

Porthos winked at me, "Tha's what I keep telling you three, a Du Vallon hug, or even just a Du Vallon pillow, is the best medicine there is."

I laughed as quietly as I could, even though I wanted to throw my head back and laugh louder at the sheer ridiculous (Adorability) of it all. I opened my mouth to speak, but Athos answered instead, a warm look in his eye, "That they are, Porthos."

My heart glowed knowing that Athos was warming up to the kit. And if he was warming up to her, then she wouldn't have to leave Paris, and she could have plenty of adventures with us. Plus, if she was with us, that lowered her likelihood of dying at a young age at least a slight degree.

The little things in life are the ones that you need to cherish.


	13. Chapter 13

Rogue's POV:

"Watch this, she sleeps like Athos does." Came a very quiet voice that I adeptly ignored, completely oblivious to the fact that the person was talking about me. I was too comfortably, and caring at this point was too much effort.

"Perhaps you shouldn't aggravate her ribs further?" A wry voice sarcastically suggested.

Something lightly touched my cheek, but it was snatched away quickly, and a deep voice growled, "Hands off. Let er sleep."

"I think Aramis might have ruined that endeavor already, Porthos." A bemused voice said, and I could hear the smirk behind the words.

I sighed, forgetting momentarily forgetting about my ribs until they sparked with pain. I pushed the pain back and murmured loud enough for the four people around me to hear, "You four are about as quiet as a stampede of horses."

I opened my eyes to see Porthos glaring at Aramis, who had his hands up in a 'I surrender' position. Athos' blue eyes were lit up with humor, though his face belayed that. And D'artagnan was on the verge of laughter.

"You might want to run before Porthos kills you, Aramis." D'art suggested teasingly.

Aramis backed up slightly, "Porthos, if you kill me, I can't help Rogue heal."

Porthos growled at Aramis and snarled, "I'm fairly certain I can get onother medic to help er. She don't **need** _you_ to torture er."

Aramis stepped behind Athos slightly, clasping his heart. "You wound me, comrade. Truly. I don't 'torture' anyone. I help."

Athos rolled his eyes and sat down beside D'artagnan while D'art laughed and said, "That is the exact opposite of what you do, Aramis. Most of the time, you are intent on torturing everyone's mental stability as much as possible."

Porthos was gently lifting me into a sitting position, then he stood and said, "Stay there, kit."

Aramis yelped as Porthos lunged at him and began running around the Garrison yard, with all the other Musketeers staring on with amusement, like this kind of thing happened all the time.

While they ran around, I put a hand to my ribs and carefully took a deep breath.

"Do you need help binding your ribcage?" D'artagnan asked anxiously. "I'm sure Constance can help you, since Aramis just ran out of the Garrison."

I looked up just in time to see Porthos lunging out the gates after Aramis.

I huffed a laugh, which made my ribs ache again, but I ignored the pain and nodded to D'artagnan. "I'd appreciate it. Can she stitch up injuries too?"

D'artagnan nodded, "She's done it enough for me when Aramis is out."

I stood up and said, "I'll need my med bag, it's still in my saddlebags, so I won't wipe out Constance's supply."

Athos stood up with D'artagnan, "I can retrieve it. D'artagnan will escort you to the Bonacieux residence."

I nodded in reply to his order and limped out behind D'artagnan.

M

I hissed again and flinched away from Constance's steady hands. I received a sharp smack to my uninjured arm and she ordered for the fifth time, "Be still!"

I fought to remain still as she stitched up my arm, a whine on my lips, but I quickly fought it back. Constance was helping me, no sense in whining about it.

Then she punctured my skin again, and, though I didn't move much, I still winced. Before she could reprimand me that I had to be more still, I said, "I know, I'm trying. But I suppose I should've put something on it to stave off infection before it got inflamed."

She nodded with pursed lips. Stitching an injury was bad enough, add to the fact that it was now slightly infected? I was having sooo much fun now. Not really.

My leg felt much better though. Constance had put some type of sweet smelling paste on it, and the muscles all relaxed. I'd have to the recipe for it later.

She had already wrapped my ribcage, and was now stitching my arm up while D'artagnan leaned against the counter with his arms crossed, staring at the process, smirking.

Athos was sitting on a chair in the corner with his hat over his eyes, appearing asleep. But every time I flinched, he shifted. I don't think he liked seeing people he was close to get hurt, so I felt honored that he was now extending that to me.

That did not stop me from flinching every time the needle went through my inflamed skin.

Constance finally finished and tied the string off. She picked up another jar and smeared thick, gross looking, yellow paste onto my arm before wrapping it tightly with a pristine white bandage. It smelled kind of like honey, which made sense. Honey staved off infection, but she might have mixed it with other stuff to kill the infection.

I was wearing a sleeveless shirt that Constance had been sewing up, but it fit me just fine and covered up my torso, which allowed Constance to get to my arm easier. My ripped shirt was hanging off of the back of one of her chairs, awaiting its turn to be stitched as well.

Constance pulled the hot water off the fire and put a rag into it. Then she pressed the warm rag to my face and gently cleaned off the cut on my head. When she was finished, she put the honey mixture onto it too, but a lot thinner coating, thankfully. She tied my short hair back from it so it wouldn't get sticky, then put a patch of a bandage over the top of it, keeping it there with an adhesive tape from my bag.

Though she had used the bandages in my med bag, she refused everything else, and used her own supply.

She was a wonderful person, but she was also slightly terrifying.

"There. All finished." She announced, then she turned and began to bustle around, putting all of her supplies back.

I stretched out my leg and flexed my arm a bit. My arm ached, and probably would until it healed, but my leg felt phenomenal.

"Thank you, Constance. How can I repay you?" I asked her as she began to stitch up my tunic.

She looked up and glared at me with fire in her eyes, "Stop being an idiot. That's payment enough. But, since I know that would be hopeless for you, don't die." Her words were biting, but her tone was chiding mixed with exasperation.

I grinned at her, "I shall try my hardest."

She hummed in response and continued to stitch.

I finally returned D'artagnan's smirk and mouthed, 'You like her.'

He paled and shook his head violently. 'She's married.' He mouthed back.

I shrugged, 'You can't help who you love'. He looked away, but I could see the red flush creeping up his neck.

I shook my head and began to pack my med bag with all of my supplies that Constance actually used.

I stood up, testing out my ribs, and was happy to find that they didn't hurt as much as they did before. I'd have to keep them bound for a week or so, but after that, I'd be perfectly fine, just sore.

I crouched, testing out my leg and my arm, and found that both could function just fine, my leg didn't even hurt anymore. I'd definitely have to get Constance something as thanks.

That's when I heard a commotion outside Constance's house, then the door shook behind someone's fist.

Constance glowered at the door, but moved to open it. The moment she opened it, we were greeted with the sight of Porthos thundering down the street, and Aramis at the door.

He sucked in a deep breath when he saw Constance, "Have you… Seen... D'artagnan… Athos…. Or…. Rogue? Porthos and I can't…. find them." He sounded as if he had been running. Probably still from Porthos.

In answer, Constance stepped aside, allowing Aramis, then a running Porthos, into her house.

Aramis paused when he saw me, then smiled brightly. "There you are! See?" He turned to Porthos, who still looked slightly mad, "Told you she was fine! D'art and Athos wouldn't kidnap her." He paused and tilted his head, "Rogue-napped." He corrected himself.

"Glad to know we are people of interest as well." Athos said wryly.

Aramis whipped around towards him and grinned, "Of course, dear Athos. But Rogue here is a new addition."

Athos picked up his hand and glared at Aramis without heat, "I told you I wasn't taking in any more strays."

Aramis gave him a knowing look, then crossed the room and stood behind me. I already should have been running at this point, but I stayed just a moment too late.

Aramis pinched my cheeks from behind me and forced me to smile, all the while smooshing my face. Thankfully it didn't aggravate the injury on my forehead, or Constance would have killed him.

"How could you not like such an adorable face?" Aramis pouted out.

Athos smirked at me, and his blue eyes danced. He was enjoying this, I was certain.

"Now, when you put it like that…." Athos said sarcastically. Then he grinned at me, "But perhaps she does have a bit of charm."

I tried to give him a real smile, but Aramis hadn't released my face yet.

I settled for giving Porthos a pleading look while Athos laughed at me with his eyes, and Aramis and D'artagnan, and even Constance, laughed at me. Porthos was chortling, but he was paying attention to me.

At my pleading look, he crossed the room and plucked me out of Aramis' clutches. He held me in the air with one hand as he took Aramis' hat and plopped it onto my head. My hat was hanging off the hook by the door.

Aramis' hat slipped over my eyes and I crossed my arms, sighing in defeat. I was literally dangling three feet in the air, my feet hanging down and swaying as Porthos laughed.

Porthos' laughter boomed around the house, echoed by the others, and I finally gave up trying to fight it.

I picked up the hat slightly, so I could see all their faces, and began to laugh alongside them.


	14. Chapter 14

Two weeks later, almost to the end of my four week limit, I was sitting next to Porthos at breakfast, watching in amusement as Aramis and D'artagnan bickered back and forth about who was the better lady's-man. We were waiting for Athos so we could go out for a ride; D'artagnan wanted to show me the forests surrounding Paris. All the horses were saddled, so Athos just had to show up and we could leave.

"I am kinder than you." D'artagnan said.

"I am more charming. And you're still caught up with a married woman." Aramis pointed out.

D'artagnan paused, before firing back with a smirk, "I am more steadfast and devoted than you. You flirt with any girl you come upon that shows the slightest bit of interest in you. My heart belongs to only one, therefore, I can show her more love."

Aramis opened his mouth to reply, but couldn't think of anything.

I laughed and slid D'artagnan an apple.

That's when my calm morning shattered.

Athos stalked into the Garrison, cloak flying behind him, and looking like he was ready to murder someone. A smirk rose to my lips, awaiting the amusing blowout sure to happen against one of the newer recruits, as per usual.

Instead, he stalked towards our table. Or, more specifically, me.

My smirk died on my lips when his hand rammed into my shoulder, lifting me out of my seat, and he slammed me into the brick wall behind me.

I cried out in surprise as he gave me a look full of hatred, and slight hurt.

"Why?" He snarled at me.

"Oy!" Porthos yelled in surprise, and Aramis and D'artagnan were quick to follow him. "What's this?!" Porthos yelled as he stood.

Athos slammed me into the wall again, jarring my teeth and making my sore ribs ache. "Why!?" He yelled at me.

I held up my hands, "What?!" I yelled back, confused and hurt.

"I trusted you. I believed you were better than this!" He growled.

My mouth fell open, "What did I do?!" By this time, all three of the others looked like they wanted to help me, but had no clue how. And the rest of the Garrison watched us curiously.

"The children." Athos snarled lowly, the tone sending chills up my spine.

I had heard about children going missing, even looked around to see what was going on, but had found nothing.

"Yes?" I prompted.

Athos dug his fingers into my arm, making me wince in pain. "How could you?"

"How could I what?!" I yelled, wanting to get out of this position but not wanting to hurt Athos.

"You took them, didn't you? Didn't you?! Where are they!?" He yelled.

My mouth fell open. He thought I was abducting the kids? The kids that I adored? The ones I entertained whenever Aramis and I went to the orphanage? He thought that low of me?

When I didn't answer, Athos continued, "I have an eyewitness saying that a black cloaked figure with a black sword and black hair grabbed a child last night. She caught me as I made my way here. The only person in Paris who has a black sword like the one she described is you!" I had never seen Athos this angry, nor seen him raise his voice this loud before.

My temper finally snapped. As Aramis tried to defend me with a cry of, "Why would she kidnap those children!? She takes care of them with me! She loves those children! She would never harm them, Athos!" I reached across my chest with lighting speed and grabbed Athos' wrist.

I twisted my hand, pushing into the nerve points in his wrist, making his fingers release my shoulder. Then, I slammed my free hand into his chest, forcing him back, and stretching out the arm that I had in my grip.

I kicked his knee out from underneath him, sending him to the ground, and twisted his arm behind him, twisting his shoulder in a way that if he moved in any way, it would hurt.

At the silence that reigned around me, Athos had never been taken down so quickly before, I leaned close to Athos' face and hissed at those fiery blue eyes. "I was with Constance last night, we were up half the night because she was teaching me how to be a better seamstress. I heard about that child being abducted, but I was with Constance at the time it happened. You can ask her if you're so certain that I did it. At all the other times, I wasn't anywhere near the abduction sites. I would never harm a child, let alone steal them away in the dead of night. I assumed you knew me better than that Athos. But," I gave him a wicked grin, "I'm nothing more than a common rogue to you, aren't I? You wouldn't mind if I just left would you? I suppose you don't know this yet, Treville does, in England, I'm known as the Rogue Angel. Or, more commonly, The Horseman of Death. I protect children, and keep them safe against all costs. I've nearly died saving a child before. Numerous times. And because of my actions, I'm scheduled for the chopping block the moment I return to England."

I leaned down more, so he could see me perfectly, "I'm not the person who ruined your life, Athos. Perhaps you shouldn't be so quick to judge. However, if that's what you wish. I'll return to England."

I threw his arm back at him, and he stayed on the ground, glaring up at me. But, in his eyes, I saw, for the first time, doubt. Not in me. In himself.

I looked up at the rest of the Garrison, I could see Treville on the balcony, staring down with pursed lips and disappointment in his eyes. I gave him a salute, then a bow.

Then I stood up straight, pointing my jaw out, and whistled, the loudest, most ear-piercing whistle that I could.

I heard a loud neigh/scream, then a bang as my horse slammed into his stall door, then my warhorse galloped out of the stables towards me, tossing his head and ready to run. Shadow (The horse) raced towards me, mane flying.

Musketeers jumped in the way, trying to stop him, but he reared at them, almost striking one of them, and they scattered in different directions.

Athos had begun to stand up, and started to reach for me, an apology in his eyes. But I couldn't help but see the pure hatred in his eyes just moments before.

So I jumped forward, hand outstretched, and my horse raced past me. I grabbed the saddle horn and used his momentum to swing into the saddle.

The reins were tied to the saddle horn, so I quickly unraveled them and raced off through the streets of Paris, people scattering to get out of the way of my warhorse.

I blinked back tears, convincing myself that I was going to have to leave anyway if Athos still thought that little of me, and urged my horse to go faster.

I raced through the town, and finally managed to get to the edge of the city.

When I got there, however, I was met with two people blocking the way with a carriage that had gold swirls along the side. In all honesty, it looked like a circus carriage.

People appeared on either side of me, causing my horse to rear and strike at them. They smacked him with staffs and dragged me off his back.

I reached for my sword, but something hit the back of my head. Hard. And I went to my knees, the world dipping and waving in front of me.

People grabbed my arms, and twisted my shoulders backwards at a painful angle.

Through my blurry vision, I saw one of the two people flanking the carriage open the door and hold out his hand. A gloved hand appeared, and a lady dressed in a gold dress stepped out.

" _Evangeline."_ I murmured in shock and confusion.

The woman with red hair and green eyes smiled cruelly at me and stepped forward daintily, walking so much like my mother that it hurt to see.

She stopped in front of me and wrapped her dainty, breakable fingers around my jaw, tilting my head up so I had to look her in the eye.

She threw my hat onto the ground, then patted my cheek condescendingly. I was still reeling from the hit, so I didn't jerk away.

" _Sister."_ Evangeline answered in reply. "Such a delight to see you again. If I remember correctly, the last you and I saw one another, was when I was being drug away to marry a man I didn't love while I begged you for help, and you didn't make a move to help me. My dearest little sister, who had the power to call the marriage off, wouldn't help her big sister." Her perfect red lips formed a pout. Her red hair curled softly around her bare, creamy white shoulders, and her green eyes were alight with fire.

I was taken back to when I was younger, and my sister and I would run away from the house for a day when it would get too hard. We would find a special tree, a willow, and hide beneath its branches, which promised so much safety.

I would lay my head in her lap, and she would read to me. The sunlight filtered through the trees, hitting her pretty red hair, making it look like the fire we both loved.

We were children, and we loved each other, just as we loved father and mother, and the eldest sister. But childhood is so fleeting, and is ripped away before its time.

"You deserved a better life than what father could give you." I murmured, my heart hurting so much I wanted to cry. Today was just too much.

Her green eyes hardened in fury, so different from the soft look in the beautiful dark green eyes. She threw my head backwards and stood tall and proud. "Well, he was wrong to do what he did. Because of the bastard he picked for me, my children were ripped from me before they were even born." Those words were like daggers to my heart. Eve always wanted children, and would often pretend that the dolls she had were her children. She'd pamper them, and wouldn't let anyone but me touch them.

I looked down, "I'm sorry, Eve." I muttered lowly.

I stopped struggling against the men holding me and my sister ran her fingers through my soft black hair. "I will ensure that you will be. You aren't a child anymore, but you'll do." She purred, then her fingers curled into my hair, almost painful, but still right on the line. "Should you accept this, dearest sister, I'll ensure no one hurts what is mine again."

Her hand left my head, and she clicked to the men holding me. I heard the staff swing back and shouted, "Cael Athos!" _Get Athos._

I heard my horse neigh/scream, then he broke away from whoever was holding him and his hoofbeats pounded on the road away from us.

I heard my sister say, "No matter."

Then something struck my head, and I tipped forward, into too familiar arms, and the feeling of soft curls on my neck carried me away.

M

 _Athos' POV:_

I kneeled on the ground, listening to the horse, carrying the rider I misjudged, far away from me.

Now that I stopped to think, _really_ think, I knew in my heart that Rogue wouldn't have done such an act as the one I accused her of.

I made a bad decision based off of past mistakes, and I would pay dearly for it.

I was jarred out of my thoughts by something harsh slamming into the side of my face. I was nearly knocked to the ground with the force behind it.

I looked up to see my attacker, and saw a furious Aramis glaring at me heatedly. "What was that, Athos?! Have you gone mad?! How could you think that Rogue, our Rogue! The one who somehow managed to get everyone she's met in Paris to love her. The one who is a good student, and hangs off of every lesson you teach her. The one who made me like her within the first 5 minutes of meeting her. That Rogue! How could you think she would dare harm, or steal, an innocent child! Especially when her own childhood was cut short because of the death of her parents?!"

I stood up, my thoughts racing. I'd have to catch her. Apologize for my actions. Or I might not just lose her. Especially if the looks on my three brother's faces were anything to go by.

"We must follow her." I murmured.

Thankfully, the rest of the Garrison cleared out after Rogue vanished. So no one would know she was a woman.

That made all three of my brothers pause.

"Yer damn righ' we're goin after er!" Porthos growled. He poked me in the chest, "An you will be the one beggin er to come back. Yer gonna swallow yer pride."

I nodded, taking a step back. "I misjudged. Acted without thinking. I apologize for you three first and foremost. But we must go after her."

D'artagnan looked at me with doubt. A look that made my heart skip. His respect was as beneficial to me as the other two. "Why did you go after her to begin with?"

Aramis was still fuming, and would probably be sore with me for a long time.

"An eyewitness put someone matching her description at the scene of abduction." I replied stiffly.

"And why the hell would that mean she was actually there?!" Aramis yelled. "Aren't you the one who always says we have to check all angles?! Aren't you the one who says we can't judge someone before we know, absolutely certain, they are the ones who did it?! Aren't you-" He trailed off when I gave him a look.

"Enough. I wrongly accused her, and shall pay for it. By her hand." I stressed. "Whatever she desires, I shall do. However, instead of sitting around arguing, it might be a better idea to find her first, and stop her before she returns to England?"

Aramis looked like he was going to punch me again, but we heard hoofbeats approaching the Garrison.

He whirled around, hope clear in his eyes, "Rogue?" He cautioned a guess.

Her lack warhorse thundered into the yard, but he was riderless.

His eyes were wide, and he was breathing hard. But he saw me and raced towards me, nearly hitting me as he streaked past.

Then he turned around and began to shove me with his head.

Such an odd horse.

Aramis grabbed his bridle, attempting to sooth the startled beast. But the horse just snapped at him and continued to hit me, even going so far as shoving me towards the saddle.

"What happened to him? Where's Rogue?" D'artagnan asked in worry.

I shook my head, "I don't know. I do, however, guess that this beast does."

The horse reared, striking at me but never connecting. He hit the ground hard enough to send tremors through it, then he latched his teeth into my shoulder and threw me at his saddle.

Aramis gave me a hard look, "You are going to get on that horse. I believe he is trying to show you something. You are not, however, going to go alone." Then he ran to the stables with Porthos at his heels.

D'artagnan looked at me, "Why, Athos?"

I looked down as the horse continued to hit me. "Because she reminded me of Milady." I answered reluctantly.

I hazarded a look upwards, and saw anger in D'artagnan's eyes. "She is not Milady, Athos. She is Rogue. And in doing what you've done, you become akin to Milady. Even if just to the slightest degree." He leaned against a post, his expression turning from anger to knowing, "I expect that you'll be doing your hardest to make it up to her."

I latched onto the chance he was giving me. "To all of you."

He nodded, satisfied with my answer.

Porthos and Aramis chose that time to run out with three horses in tow.

My three brothers swung onto their horses, while I grabbed the reins of the startled beast. He seemed to pacify as he saw me moving to mount him.

I swung into his saddle, and the moment I was seated, he bolted out of the Garrison. Had I not been a decent rider, he would have left me on the ground.

M

The horse finally stopped at the edge of Paris. And the only thing we found there was Rogue's hat, sitting on the ground, with the feather still sticking out of it.

As we inspected the area, Aramis turned to me and said words that made my heart freeze. "If we do not find her, Athos, I will never forgive you."

I picked up Rogue's hat as her horse nuzzled me from behind. "I won't forgive myself." I answered in reply.

 **Hey guys! Sapphire here! Did I do Athos justice? I feel like I didn't. I apologize of I didn't. Also, I know it isn't like Athos to jump to conclusions, but he is kind of edgy when it comes to Milady. Plus, for the sake of the story, someone had to blow up.**

 **What do you think of Evangeline?**

 **ST**


	15. Chapter 15

Rogue's POV:

When I woke, I had a massive headache, and I was lying on something soft and warm.

I cracked open my eyes slowly, and was greeted with gold.

A gold dress to be specific.

Now that I was awake, I became aware of someone running their fingers softly through my hair.

I tried to move, but groaned as pain flared throughout my entire body. The fingers stilled, and a soft voice floated to my ears. "Shh. Don't try to move, sister. There is a low grade poison in your body right now, insurance that you cannot get away. I apologize for the extreme measures, however, my employer insists. He knows of your reputation as well as I, and does not want you to get away before he can make you an offer.

"Also, I told you that there would be a punishment for casting me aside all those years ago. This pain shall suffice." Her voice purred into my ear.

She began to run her fingers through my hair again, "Would you like me to read to you while we wait for him?"

I tried to get a glimpse of anything other than Eve's damn dress, but gold filled my vision. I tried to move again, fighting past the pain this time, and managed to push myself up slightly.

I heard Eve sigh. "You never did like not being able to see anything. Did you? Very well."

I heard her put something down, then hands were on my shoulders, rolling me over. I cried out in pain again. It felt like fire was coursing through my veins, and it locked up my muscles.

When my head was yet again pillowed in Eve's lap, and I was facing upwards, I went limp again. Instantly, the pain faded into a buzz, which made my entire body feel numb.

Eve smiled down at me, her green eyes hopeful and happy. "There. Is that better?" She patiently awaited my reply. There was something wrong with her, but I couldn't pin point it. And it was frustrating me.

I swallowed hard, trying to get some moisture in my dry mouth, and replied. "Yes."

She beamed at me and combed her hands through my hair again. "Good. Now, would you like me to read to you?"

I thought about it for a second. I was trapped, in a place I didn't know, I couldn't fight, I was in pain, and, right now at least, I was more or less safe with my sister. So, I forced myself to nod, fighting down the wave of pain.

She smiled happily at me and picked up a book with one hand, she began to read to me, and I closed my eyes, pretending, if just for moment, that we were kids again. I wasn't poisoned, I wasn't trapped, and my sister wasn't working with someone very bad.

I let her sweet voice carry me away.

M

No one's POV:

The four Musketeers looked into every avenue they could, talking to everyone that even had the slightest idea as to where their missing fifth could be.

After the first day of searching, Athos realized that Rogue might have been taken by the same person who had been kidnapping children. It didn't add up completely, but it was worth looking into.

So they began to search for the children, hoping beyond hope, that once they found the children, they'd find Rogue. They just hoped that they were even still in France, or it would be impossible to find any of them.

That had been two days ago. Approximately three days since Rogue was taken.

They were regrouping in a small market square in Paris discussing what they'd found so far.

Porthos had been to the Court, and they hadn't known much, on the lookout themselves for the children, but Flea had promised to keep her eyes and ears out for any sign of Rogue.

Aramis had been at the orphanage, where a small amount of children still were compared to what used to be there before. That would have been comforting, had they been adopted instead of stolen away. The head nun there knew nothing, but begged Aramis to find the children.

D'artagnan had been looking in the eastern side of Paris, digging up Constance's friends everywhere he could, asking everyone if they knew anything that would aid the Musketeers.

Athos had pulled up any contacts he could, speaking to each of them, and sending them out to different parts of the city.

All in all, they had found a depressing lack of any information they could use.

"How do we know Rogue hasn't gone back to England?" D'artagnan asked glumly.

Aramis shook his head, "Why would she leave her horse here? He had everything she would need on his saddle besides her sword and daggers. Plus, she would never leave that hat there like that."

Athos nodded, "However, just in case, I've sent a few letters to old…. Acquaintances… from England, instructing them to keep their eyes out." Aramis nodded curtly to him, still mad at him, but easing up with the proof that Athos was worried about Rogue.

Just as Athos was about to give the order to keep looking, a shout was heard through the crowd.

"Monsieur Porthos! Monsieur Porthos!"

Porthos turned, looking through the crowd to see who was shouting for him.

Then, a black head appeared, bobbing through the crowd, attached to a waving hand. It was a boy, who couldn't have been older than 12.

He ran up to Porthos, breathing hard, and shouted one last time, "Monsieur Porthos!"

Porthos huffed at him and ruffled his hair, "Oy, squirt! What are you doin in this par o town?"

The boy ducked out of the way of Porthos' hand and looked up at him. "Flea told me to find you and tell you something!"

Porthos instantly stopped teasing the boy and crouched down, "Wha is it then?" He asked.

The boy leaned closer to him as the other Musketeers leaned closer too, "Flea says that she's found your friend. And that she's found the missing kids. They're a bit out of town, in a clearing, in the forest! A few of Flea's runners said they saw tons of tents, like a gypsy camp. In one of those tents, one of them saw the girl you're looking fer walk out! She was being held up by a few people, but they threw her into a tent big enough to hold all the missin kids! They don't know if the kids are there, but the signs around the camp look like it! She says to meet her at the south side of town, tonight, when the moon is high. She'll take you there! But she says you best be ready for a fight."

Porthos smiled broadly and patted the boys head before flipping him a gold coin. "Tell er I said thanks, and we'll be there tonight."

The boy nodded with a grin, job done, and raced off back into the crowd.

Porthos stood up straighter, looking at the other three with a toothy grin. "Well, are we gonna go get our girl back?"

Aramis grinned back at him and nodded, the rest of the them soon nodded too, and together, they walked back to the Garrison to prepare, and to get more assistance.

M

 _Earlier that morning. Rogue's POV:_

For the next few days, I recovered from the poison, and was taken care of by my sister. I didn't see anything other than the lavish tent we were staying inside. I could hear crying, and yelling, from outside the tent for the first day, but after that I was greeted by only silence.

On the third day, I could get up on my own. There were guards outside the tent on all sides, and I had zero weapons except a small dagger that was hidden in my belt. Literally. I had a slit on the back of my belt that was a holster for that small dagger. And unless you knew where the slit was, you couldn't see it.

I was still dressed in my black clothes, but my cloak had been taken from me. I should be thankful I still had my boots, pants, and tunic. Eve wanted to put me into a purple dress, but after begging her not to, she consented.

I still felt that something was majorly off with her, but I could not pinpoint it no matter how hard I tried.

She had left to go somewhere, and I was left alone in her tent. She had pillows everywhere, a rocking chair that was intricately carved, and two fluffy beds with soft, warm blankets.

I didn't know who my sister was dealing with, but he was extremely rich.

I, unfortunately, got to meet this mystery man my sister had talked very little about.

I was doing push-ups in the only clear spot in the tent, trying to get my strength back, when the flap of the ten opened, and a tall man with golden eyes, olive skin, and black hair stepped inside.

He saw me on the ground and smirked a bemused smile. I instantly hated him by the arrogant way he carried himself, and the cruel look in his eyes.

I leapt to my feet, ignoring the slight tinge of pain caused by the action, and crossed my arms, waiting for him to do something other than stare at me.

Finally, he laughed slightly, and winked at me. "Your sister is beautiful, and I expected you to be the same when she told me about you. However, I did not expect you to be a deadly kind of beautiful." He purred at me in a voice that was heavily accented. I had only heard an accent like that in Italy.

He stalked forward slightly, and I held my ground even though every instinct I had was screaming at me to get away from him.

He stopped a foot in front of me and tilted his head down slightly to look at me. He grabbed my jaw and forced my head up, "Ooh. Such a feisty gleam in those eyes, a pretty color too. You look like you could do some wicked things to people, darling."

I gave him a sickly sweet smile and purred back, "If you do not remove your hand, I will break it." My smile never faded, and I stared up at him with icy defiance.

Pleasant surprise lit up his features and he grinned wolfishly at me, "A fighter too, hmm? Of course, I guessed that from the start. When your sister mentioned you, and that she had seen you in Paris during her excursions, I knew that I had to see you for myself. From the moment I laid eyes on you, I knew you were the one I wanted."

He removed his hand from my jaw. Before he could continue, I heard a terrified scream from outside, and it sounded like a child.

I stiffened and glared up at him, "What is that?" I snarled.

He waved his hand flippantly, "Just another child being brought in. Nothing to worry your pretty little head about just yet."

I had to fight back another snarl, I wanted to punch him. That just proved my theory that he was the one kidnapping children. The screams I had heard earlier were all those of children, and from the first day I thought that I had been brought into the kidnappers camp.

"Why are you taking children?" I hissed, fighting back the urge to strangle him. With the level my strength was at right now, he could easily throw me off. I hated poison.

He curled his lip up, "Isn't it obvious? The slave trade pays quite a lot these days. Especially for children. They can grow up to be anything. And if you teach them right…." He trailed off with a gleam in his eye that I really didn't like.

"Why my sister?" I asked after taking a breath to calm down.

"Because she was easily manipulated, and children will go to a woman who asks them to more than they will a man. A woman would never hurt a child." He explained as though it was obvious. He stepped back a bit and gestured around the tent, "When I found your sister, she was broken, alone, and confused. Her husband had beaten her so badly that she had lost the child she carried, and she had lost the ability to have another. Then, because of her own 'incompetence' he divorced her, and cast her out onto the street."

My heart skipped a beat at his words. I should have been there for her. I should have stopped the marriage. I should have protected her. But neither of my two sisters liked the fact that I had father's attention more than they, and it was slowly tearing my family apart. I thought that if they went off and got married, and started families of their own, they would forget about the trouble we had caused for my mother.

"I found her, and offered her a place in my traveling convoy. I gave her riches, gifts, and presents. I showered her with adoration, and soon, I convinced her to help me with my 'business'. She agreed readily enough, always trying to impress me, to make me love her more." He chuckled in dark amusement. "She would kill for me if I asked. Now though, she finds children who have strayed from the others. She talks to them, she smiles with them, and she plays with them while their mothers are too busy to notice. Or, with the orphans, she gives them the attention no one else would. She persuades them that she can provide them a better home than the one they have, she leads them to my men, and if they realize what's going on by then, it's too late for them to run away."

He shrugs, "Of course, there were a few that managed to run. But we always managed to catch them. However, the thing with wearing black is that if anyone sees you, especially with a struggling child in your arms, they automatically become afraid."

I was horrified with what he was telling me, and the black figures grabbing children explained why Athos thought I was one of them. Wearing black automatically makes you a suspect most of the time.

"She brings them back to me, and I sell them to the highest bidder. I have a big order this time though, so all the children that I've acquired from Paris are still here. However, we are set to sail in a few days, so we'll be packing up to leave tomorrow. They will get to travel across the ocean, to the shiny new colonies across the sea." He spread his hands and tilted his head with a manic grin, "And if a few of them get sick, which is bound to happen…" He shrugged, "I have extra than what the order asks for."

I shook my head, keeping my face from showing that I was terrified of what he was doing. He was clearly a psychopath, and should be swinging by a rope in the tallest tree for what he'd done.

"What do you want me for?" I managed to push out with a calm, even voice.

His golden eyes lit up, "Well, I wish for you to become my right hand. Or, in other words, take your sister's place. She's alright, but her mind isn't all there anymore. It has become horribly boring." He pouted, "I'm sure you understand that. I can see your intelligence, those normal people must bore you to death. Don't they? Just like they do for me."

I couldn't hold back anymore, it didn't matter if I was strong enough or not, I'd never been good at controlling my temper.

I snapped forward, swinging my fist around and catching him off guard. My fist slammed into the side of his face, and I twisted my hand and my knuckles cracked his cheekbone.

He hit the ground hard, and then began to laugh while wiping blood away from his mouth.

"I take that as a no, then." He said with a grin.

I huffed, "I would never, ever join you. I'd rather die." I snarled at him. "Children are innocent and pure. They should not be dragged into slavery."

He rose to his feet, "Well then. I suppose, if you won't join me. You can join the slaves. Your sister will be disappointed, of course. She was convinced you two would stay together, happily ever after." He said with a cruel, twisted smile.

He barked something a language I didn't know, and the two people guarding the entrance stepped inside. They were big, and carried themselves with power. I'd never fight off three of them when all of my limbs were shaking like leaves in the wind.

So, I punched his jaw, and he was flung to the side.

I saw the punch coming, but couldn't move out of the way before one of the giants slammed his fist into my ribcage. I felt them crack, and doubled over, breathing hard.

Then the two giants grabbed my arms and dragged me out of the lavish tent, through a campground, and threw me into a big, dull tent….. Full of the terrified faces of children.

I hit the ground hard, and black crowded my vision. I saw the faces of children I knew swarming towards me, screaming my name, before everything faded away.


	16. Chapter 16

_That night. No one's POV:_

The Musketeer force, all 15 of them (The rest were remaining at the Garrison for safety measures or on missions), gathered silently around the camp holding the children, and the friend they all knew well, inside.

The orders were simple, at the signal, which would be provided by Aramis, they were to shoot those who weren't Musketeer, or those who weren't from the court. The court had showed them the location, so they weren't going to leave the children behind. The Musketeers were to provide cover and a distraction, and the court would gather the children and stow away back to Paris with all of them.

The Musketeers who were going to be firing were stationed in the tallest trees that gave them clear views of the camp below their perch. They had secondaries who would load their muskets as they fired, so they didn't have to stop. Those who were firing were to stop when the fighting got too thick so they didn't shoot their comrades save a few. Aramis was one of those few. He was a good enough shot to not injure his comrades, so he was to stay in his perch until the fighting was over.

Those who weren't shooting were to draw their swords and run into the thick of it as their brothers in the sky removed as many as they could with their bullets. The court was to fight, but their main order was to get all the children in the camp out, and protect them while they removed them safely.

All together, it was 30 people, versus 40. The scale tipped in favor of the slavers, but it wouldn't be wise to underestimate the angry force of the Court working together with the Musketeers.

Treville stood beside Athos, Porthos, and D'artagnan. Aramis was already perched in a tree and awaiting the signal, though he itched to fire now.

Treville gazed around, finding his hidden men deep in the bushes with ease, but only because he knew where to look.

The kidnappers were loitering around in their camp, drinking and laughing, poking fun at the terrified children who cried in the largest tent in the center of the establishment.

Treville raised his hand, and Porthos drew his sword, eyes gleaming with righteous rage. Athos drew his sword as well, already poised to fight. D'artagnan drew his own rapier, and double checked that he had Rogue's cutlass still hanging on his side. He didn't feel it was right to leave the black blade behind, especially when Rogue would be wanting to fight. He was in charge of getting Rogue, and all of her weapons. Then, if she was injured, he would bring her back to where Aramis' tree was.

He tightened his grip on his rapier. According to Flea, Rogue was in the tent with the children. So she shouldn't be hard to find.

But, then again, it was Rogue. And Rogue had a penchant for finding trouble. Not, of course, that he had any room to talk.

Aramis watched Treville anxiously, then Treville flicked his hand, and Aramis took aim at the biggest kidnapper around the fire. He exhaled, then pulled the trigger.

The musketball entered the back of the man's head, and the bear of a man slumped off of his log, dead before he hit the ground.

With that one shot, more shots followed, and battle cries echoed around the clearing. Musketeers and the Court flew out from the trees as more shots rang out.

The kidnappers gained their senses quickly, but they still weren't fast enough to avoid getting cut down swiftly and without mercy. Musketeers had honor, but they would not show that honor to people who attacked something as innocent as a child.

M

 _Rogue's POV:_

I had been attempting to comfort all the children who had swarmed around me as soon as I awoke. I was still woozy, but most of my strength had returned. My ribs were cracked, and a few were broken, because of the hits that had been so graciously delivered to me.

But, despite my desperate thinking for a way out of this mess, with all the children too, all my plans would never work. I needed to leave and convince Athos of my innocence, forgive him for his outburst, whether he believed me or not, I shouldn't have run off like I did. I needed to find Aramis, and apologize for the sudden disappearing act, which would hurt him for many more days before he forgave me. I'd have to give Constance those flowers I had promised her. I'd have to hug Porthos. I'd have to joke again with D'artagnan.

I refused to die here. And die here I would. I would not get onto a slave ship. So they would have to shoot me here, in France soil. Only fitting this is where my body will lay.

But I had to find the Musketeer brothers I had left first.

I did not expect the Musketeers to find me, but then again, I should have. They were idiotic morons after all.

The moment I heard the first musket fire, the musket that was so _damn familiar_ to me, I knew they were here. Plus, even if I didn't know that musket, I would definitely recognize Porthos' enraged roar that sounded more primal than human.

I drew the small dagger I had and turned around, pointing it at the entrance to the tent. I knew the Musketeers would get to me, I could hear the sheer number of people outside fighting, but just in case, I would be swinging at whoever opened that flap first.

Soon, as the fighting drew closer to the tent, the flap was ripped open and a Musketeer I recognized leapt inside, followed closely by people I didn't know.

The Musketeer grinned brightly at me, it was Rodrigo, "Rogue! Knew we'd find you here!" The blond said cheerfully. "D'artagnan's looken for you. This people are from the Court of Miracles, they're taken the children back to Paris."

At his words, the children behind me cheered at the mention of their home.

Rodrigo held out his hand to me, still thankfully oblivious I was a girl, the bastard who kidnapped children probably only knew because my sister told him. My sister! I had to find her!

But Rodrigo was speaking. "Come on, Rogue! I'll take you to D'artagnan. He had your cutlass!" I switched hands with my dagger, and accepted his offered hand. The children were being led out through the backside of the tent as more people from the court poured in, grabbing them and taking off towards safety.

Rodrigo drug me out of the tent and whistled, a high pitched whistle that made me want to cover my ears. It drew the attention to us, but I could also see a dirty, shadow covered, D'artagnan whip around, a bag in his hand and a sword, my longsword, draped over his arm.

He ran towards us, weaving through the fray with practiced ease, and Rodrigo ran off to help Morison as D'artagnan reached me.

He beamed at me and threw me my sword. I caught it quickly and shoved it into its holster on my belt with practiced ease, then he shoved my cutlass into my hand.

He shouted over the noise of battle, "Are you injured?"

I shook my head, "Not badly!"

He gave me an exasperated look, then shook his head and drew his rapier just in time to block of an incoming attack. I shoved my cutlass into the man's stomach and he collapsed.

"Why did you run off?!" D'artagnan shouted as we weaved through the throng, giving help to anyone who need it.

I looked away as I leapt over the fallen body of a man, "Because I respected Athos, and I had to get away before I did something I might have regretted. Although, I regret running away like I did anyway. And I apologize." I replied as I swung my cutlass at the sword trying to take my head off.

The cutlass slid down the opposing sword with a harsh ring, then, with a flick of my wrist, the other sword was sent flying out of the man's hand. D'artagnan punched the man in the face, and the man crumpled to the ground.

D'artagnan and I fought back to back as we moved through the mass of people, trying to find Athos or Porthos.

I could feel my ribs shifting, and the broken ones were beginning to get dangerous. However, we were so close to finishing them off, so I probably wouldn't be fighting much longer.

That's when I heard a scream that chilled me to the core, "Angelica!"

It was Evangeline. She was terrified. And she was screaming for me.

I didn't care about anything anymore, I dispatched the last man threatening D'artagnan, then I ran towards the scream, shouting, "Evangeline!"

I could hear my elder sister sobbing, screaming for me still. I could hear D'artagnan following close behind me, shouting at me 'What are you doing?!'. I passed Porthos, who stopped what he was doing and took after me, shouting 'Oy! Rogue!'. I passed Athos, who finished off the man he was fighting, before he was tailing me too.

I heard Aramis hit the ground somewhere near me, shouting out 'Rogue! Where are you going?!'.

I ignored them all as I took off into the darkness, following the still sobbing voice of my sister.

I was much faster than the four Musketeers tailing me, and that also meant that while I lost them, I got closer to the source of the crying.

"Quiet you insolent fool!" A snarl erupted, and I heard the tell-tale sound of someone being smacked. The sobbing became quieter. The voice that belonged to the harsh smack was that of the man behind this whole mess.

I leapt over a log, and kicked the man's chest. He staggered backwards as I crouched over my sister, who was staring up at me with terrified, tear filled, green eyes.

"Don't touch her." I snarled, holding my cutlass out in front of me.

The man recovered from his shock extremely quickly, and he grinned at me. "Oh, I knew you were deadly. But you are absolutely terrifying at night, aren't you? I never even heard you coming." I could see his eyes harden with the limited light of the waning moon filtering through the thick trees. "And for someone like me, that is an impressive feat indeed."

I smirked wickedly at him, knowing that my white teeth gleamed in the half light. "Oh, a moron then? Not that hard to sneak up on you."

He laughed cruelly, and the sound sent shivers down my spine.

I turned to my sister, thrusting my cutlass into her hands, hissing, "Run. Evangeline, get up, and run!"

She was shocked out of her stupor and she stood up, cutlass held clumsily in one hand as she bunched up her skirts with the other. "But, Angelica, what about you?"

I shook my head, watching as the man stared at us with cruel interest, "That doesn't matter. I can handle myself, but you have to leave! Find the Musketeers! Lead them here! Just listen to me and run!"

I breathed a sigh of relief as she began to scramble up the small hill and away from the deep dip we were in. "You better stay alive!" She shouting with a shaking voice.

I drew my longsword and pointed it at him.

He drew his own sword, and I noticed that he had daggers all over his belt, and a two flintlocks hung on his hips. All that I had was my longsword now, and the small dagger in my belt.

He grinned ferally at me, his white teeth gleaming, and his golden eyes glowed eerily in the dark, just as I knew my blue eyes glowed because of the moons glow.

"So, your name is Angelica then? Interesting. Perhaps that's why one of your names is the Rogue Angel then? All the same, now that I know your name, it is only fit you know mine." He bowed, holding his sword away from his body. "My name is Isaac. It's only fair you know the name of your executioner of course." Then he lunged at me, keeping the feral grin on his face, and his golden eyes glowed in psychopathic delight.

I met his silver sword with my black one, and grinned wickedly at him. If he was going to be psychotic, then I was going to be the Horseman of Death. That is who I was, so I might as well show it.

He swung a dagger at my unprotected side, and I grabbed his wrist, twisting it and forcing him to drop the dagger as I shoved him away from me with a vicious kick.

His eyes lit up in pleasure, "This will be a fun challenge!" He crowed.

Yes. This should be an interesting challenge.


	17. Chapter 17

I ducked under a blow, and slashed my longsword at Isaac's stomach. Isaac showed a surprising amount of agility and twisted away from the sword, trying to catch me off guard with a knife aimed for my side. I snapped around, aggravating my ribs further, and hit his wrist, making his knife fly away from him.

I leapt away from him, and he stepped away from me, opting for studying me instead.

I could see the intelligence that practically screamed at me from his golden eyes, there was cunning there, and fascination too.

He was my build, lean, powerful, and fast, so it would be difficult to take him down. I couldn't rely on my speed, nor my strength, for this opponent. The only thing I could rely on was manipulation of the shadows surrounding me, and the fact that I had people to protect. Just thinking about what he had done to my sister sent lightning bolts of fury through me.

I studied him, he had to have a weak spot. Mine was in the small of my back, if anyone even strayed their hand too close to that sensitive, I was overcome with the urge to _move get away run_ no matter the hand.

Perhaps his weak spot was the same?

"Interesting." Isaac mused as we circled each other, neither daring to attack, but both wanting something to happen.

I curled my lip into a smirk, "I could say the same."

"We are matched." Isaac gave me a devilish smirk. "I cannot lay a mark on you, just as you cannot lay a mark on me. What good partners we'd make! We sense what the other will do before they do it, we match stride for stride, beat for beat, breath for breath. We are locked in a dangerous dance, you and I. If we joined, no one could stand against us. Both are intelligent, too intelligent to 'fit in' with society. We could rule men and women. We could be gods." His golden eyes had more of a dangerous edge promising death.

He was dangerous, deadly, and if I didn't kill him now, there was no telling how many lives he would take. I didn't enjoy killing, but I was good at it when I was taking out someone who would do so much more harm than I'd ever have a chance at stopping if I allowed it to continue.

However, he was right…. I knew what I was going to do before I did it, just as I did with him. So matched were we, that it would be nigh impossible to kill him, without killing myself in the process.

I thought back to the children he had taken, no doubt halfway back to Paris by now, how terrified they'd all been. How many others had he taken before now? How many lives had he harmed before now? How many had he taken before their time?

My thoughts went to my sister, she had been manipulated by him, _used_ , then discarded as though she was no more than trash.

I thought about Constance, and the warm smell of freshly baked pie that had been in her window just a few days ago. She had promised to teach me how to make good pie, just as she had shown me how to sew better. There was so much I could learn from her.

And Athos? I had already forgiven him, but he didn't know that. There were so many training lessons I knew would improve everything about my fighting that I could learn from him. I could get to know the man better, see who this woman was, and maybe kick her for what she'd put my friend through.

Aramis, on the other hand, had promised to improve my flintlock shooting in return for me teaching him the trick that I used to flip from a table, and onto a scaffolding, only to continue dancing to some stupid song Porthos had sung, and not killed myself in the process, nor broken anything.

Porthos….. The big bear. He had been teaching me how to fight an opponent twice my size, and each time he threw me, he would pick me up, dust me off, and tell me to lunge at him again, use his own size against him. He who taught me that you can be scary, deadly, and still have to stop and pet every single kitten that crossed his path. He who showed me how to get around on the Paris rooftops, and shown me the gorgeous sunset over the city on the tallest roof we could get onto.

And D'artagnan had been a constant friend, and a tourguide. He always seemed to find me when I found trouble, mostly because he had found the trouble too without me. He who had bonded with me over the carvings and designs we could make out of a block of wood.

In my saddlebag there was actually six figurines. For the six people I met in Paris that were people I cared for. Treville, of course, was one of them. How could I not make one for the grumpy captain? His carving was that of a Lion, who I had seen in a traveling circus, and that lion would die protecting his pride.

Athos' was of a Wolf, proud and noble, with fangs bared towards any who dare touch his pack.

Porthos', was, of course, a bear. A bear standing to his full height, claws out and swiping any who approached him.

Aramis' was that of a panther, sprawled out in a deceptive sleep, with claws out and pointed to those who dare touch him and eyes open to slits, glowing threateningly with sharp vision.

D'artagnan's was a rearing Stallion, mane and tail flowing behind him as he struck at those who threatened him.

And Constance. Pure and loving, with a sharp edge, had a sharp eyed hawk as her piece.

All pieces they would never receive if I died here today.

However, if I didn't try, if I didn't put myself in harms way, how many people would Isaac kill? How many families would he tear apart? How much pain would he cause? And I would have to live with the guilt knowing I could have stopped him.

I was a coward, but, then, I always had been.

I smirked at Isaac, an unpleasant, terrifying smirk, that promised redemption and pain. Two things I was very good at delivering.

I lunged forward at him, and he raised his sword, foolishly thinking to read that reaction.

If I had to beat myself in a fight, I would rely purely on instinct, because then, and only then, my movements couldn't be predicted. They couldn't be deterred. They couldn't be avoided.

I saw Isaac pull up his flintlock, already knowing a knife was useless against me, taking aim as I drew closer.

I grabbed the dagger in my belt with one hand, and curved my arm around, shoving the knife up to the hilt in Isaac's chest, right where his heart lay, as a boom echoed around me.

I saw the smoke curl from the pistol, knowing the ball had hit me. How could it not? I was at point-blank range. It would have been impossible _not_ to hit me. The ball had struck me in the stomach, not deadly if treated immediately, since the ball didn't hit any major organs, it struck too high and too to the right for that. However, it did break a few ribs, which, on their own, wouldn't have killed me, but coupled with bloodloss, a cold night, and that help wasn't forthcoming immediately, I was as good as dead.

I staggered backwards, pressing a hand numbly to the steadily bleeding area.

Isaac dropped instantly, dead the moment my dagger hit him, with a triumphant smile, and blood oozing out of his lips, already turning blue. He knew that he was going to die the moment I hit him, but he knew I was going with him.

I forced my legs to get me away from him as I clumsily sheathed my sword, I refused to die at his side. I would at least get a good distance between him and I.

I staggered up the embankment keeping me trapped in this miserable hole. My vision was wobbly, and the pain was beginning to affect my body. I could feel myself shutting down, soon, I would fall.

I made it up the embankment and leaned against a thick willow tree that was young, but sturdy. Its branches did not yet touch the ground, and there was enough space between its great branches that I could see the stars. It was crystal clear tonight, and the stars were blinking comfortingly at me.

I always said that as I died, I wanted to see the stars. I knew I would die young, but I didn't realize that I would die just when I got what I had always yearned for.

A family.

I was surprised to feel tears sting my eyes, I blinked them away, too tired to lift my arms anymore.

I could see my breath coming out in a white mist, and realized that I should be shivering. After all, I was only in my thin tunic. I didn't even have my gloves anymore.

But I wasn't, I didn't feel cold. I felt numb. Pleasantly devoid of all pain, and _tired_. So tired.

Some part of my brain screamed at me to get up, to find the others, to make sure that Athos knew I forgave him. To say sorry.

But I couldn't find the willpower to do so. And it was oh so comfortable here. I think I'll just…. Take…. A short…. Rest….

I…. deserved one….. with all the….. work…. I…. did….

I closed my eyes, and the world faded in oblivion.

M

 _Aramis' POV:_

Rogue had run off, and though the four of us ran after her, she was fast. I didn't even know why she was running to begin with! But she had just gone crazy, and had sprinted through the trees faster than we could keep up. Which was very impressive seeing as Porthos had such long legs, and D'artagnan could beat him on any good day.

We slowed to a stop to regroup, and the moment we were stopped, Athos rounded on D'artagnan.

I had forgiven him already, but I didn't know if Rogue would. I hoped she would, because otherwise I'd have to stage an intervention. And that could get messy.

As my mind worked out a devious plan, Athos turned to D'art and demanded, "Why was she running? And to where?"

D'artagnan shrugged, "I don't know! One moment she was behind me, then someone screamed and she shouted 'Evangeline!' and took off!"

Athos looked at all of us, "Do we know who this 'Evangeline' is?"

I shook my head and shrugged. It was a pretty name at any rate.

Just as Athos began to open his mouth, a shout reached our ears.

"Musketeers! Please! Please! I need…. I need help!" A distressed female voice reached my ears, and I turned towards it with a charming smile already set in place.

A beautiful women with fiery green eyes and red hair ran up to us, holding a cutlass….. Rogue's cutlass….

The woman was in tears, and her breath came out in short, quick bursts. Either from the running she had done, the screaming, or something else.

"Please! Please! My sister! She… She!" The woman sucked in air and I could clearly read terror in her expression.

I reached for her, rubbing her shoulders in a comforting motion. "Mademoiselle. Take deep breaths and tell us what is wrong, and we will endeavor to assist you." I told her smoothly, taking stock of her distressed appearance. She had Rogue's cutlass, her golden dress was in near tatters, her hair was curling madly in every direction, and had a stick in it. She had a bruise forming on her cheekbone, and her green eyes were mad with panic.

Perhaps she had been the one that sent Rogue into a panicked run?

The woman followed my instructions, and wiped her tear filled eyes. "My sister saved me from the man who was kidnapping the children. He was…" She sniffed and sob violently shook her frame, "He was going to kill me. But Angelica got there first…. She gave me her sword and told me to run, and get help from Musketeers. I left her and that bastard to fight…" Another sob, and the woman clasped a hand to her mouth as the cry produced a strangled sound from her mouth.

Then she clutched my shoulder so hard that her nails dug into my shirt, and pierced the skin beneath. The cutlass dropped to the ground.

"You have to save her! You have to help my little sister! She'll die if you don't! She doesn't know him! She can't fight him and hope to win!" The woman shook me lightly, though I suspected that was all the strength she had.

Porthos stepped forward then, nearly growling, "That sword. Who gave it to you?"

The woman looked at him, "My sister." She replied simply.

Athos shook his head, "Is your name Evangeline?"

The woman nodded, "Yes. Has Angelica told you about me?"

"Angelica? You mean Rogue?" D'artagnan asked as he stepped forward. All of us were beginning to get stressed with the news. Rogue had a sister, and her real name was Angelica. And she was potentially fighting a serial killer who was ruthless and didn't show mercy.

Evangeline tilted her head, then consented, "I suppose she does prefer to go by Rogue. But why are we talking like this when we should be saving Rogue?!" She tugged on my arm, turning in the process, "Come! We must save my sister! And you four can!"

She began to drag me, and slowly, I began to run alongside her, gaining speed and was soon dragging her.

The others followed closely behind us.

Soon, we came upon a dip, and Evangeline pointed down it. "That's where I left my sister."

In the dip, was a limp body. But it wasn't Rogue. Even in the darkness, I knew that the body was _not_ my friend. However, that was all that was there. No Rogue.

Athos sighed before ordering, "Spread out. Sweep the area, find Rogue and return here once you have her. Shout when you have her. I want to strangle the moron."

He began to walk down the incline as the rest of us spread out. D'artagnan opted to stay with the distressed female, who had begun to get more stressed when she realized that Rogue was nowhere to be seen.

I walked off to the right as Porthos went left.

I walked for a few minutes, shouting Rogue's name, both of them, until I stumbled upon something I didn't want to find. A trail of dark blood.

The moon was brighter here, and the stars lit up the clearing I was in with shocking detail. So I knew, with chilling certainty, that the large trail of dark liquid was blood.

I followed it, not wanting to know what was on the other side of it.

I froze when I looked up and saw a tree, standing alone in the clearing, with a figure leaning against it, looking calm.

My heart began to beat again when I realized it was the familiar shape of Rogue. Blood trail forgotten, probably some deer who wondered into the whole mess and gotten shot, I strode over to her, shouting, "Found her!" Loud enough to ensure Athos heard me.

"You know, Rogue, scaring us like that isn't exactly good form for your friends." I teased as I approached her. She was leaning against the tree with her eyes closed, face upward towards the stars, and with her hands folded on her stomach.

She must be cold, but she didn't move when I approached. I sighed and shrugged off my cloak, I didn't mind the cold if it meant keeping her warm.

I walked closer, preparing to throw my cloak over her, muttering, "Sure, ignore me. Continue to sleep. You could, I don't know, sleep in a place that is _warm_ and _safe_ perhaps? Rogue… Will you wake up when I'm talking to you?"

As I got closer though, and she still didn't stir, didn't offer a sarcastic quip to combat D'artagnan and Athos, my worry grew, and a suspicion I didn't want to acknowledge began to form.

I looked down, only to find the dread pooling in my stomach to be set alight with panic. The blood trail I had found earlier, led to where Rogue now sat.

My cloak dropped to a heap on the cold forest floor.

"Rogue?" I asked, surprised to find that my voice was cracking.

I lunged forward, moving Rogue's hands gently to find the source of the blood. A musketball had ripped through her body, just below the ribcage. It might have avoided her internal organs, which I hoped beyond hope that was the case, because then I could save her.

Her skin was cold, but still warm enough.

With shaking hands, I checked her pulse. The beat was slow, and sluggish, but there was enough there for me to save. I just needed my tools.

"Porthos!" I screamed. He could carry her, he had the longest legs. He and D'art were the fastest, but I could keep up easily when I had to.

I heard his footsteps approach quickly. He knew better than anyone that if I screamed, it was a matter of life or death.

When he saw what made me scream, he collapsed on the ground on the other side of Rogue. He reached out a trembling hand towards her, as if afraid if he touched her, she'd vanish.

"Is she?" He asked in a quivering voice that didn't belong to him.

I shook my head vehemently. "No. She's alive, Porthos. But I need my tools, so we need to get her back to where the other Musketeers are. I can save her, but we have to move, now."

Porthos didn't need further coaxing, he picked her up as gently as he could and cradled her against his chest, then stood. All in one, fluid motion.

I paused a moment to throw my cloak over Rogue's shivering form, then Porthos and I sprinted through the trees.

Rogue didn't need more jostling, however, if we didn't get her help quickly, she'd bleed out. So the faster right now, the better.

M

Athos' POV:

I knew the moment I saw the discharged flintlock in the kidnappers hand, and Rogue's blade buried in his heart, that he had shot her. And I knew, from the blood trail leading away, that Aramis would find her first.

So I knew, with absolute certainty, that when Aramis screamed for Porthos, she was injured badly.

What I didn't know, and what answer scared me the most, was if she'd survive the night, or die at the hands of the bastard lying with a twisted smile in front of me.

I knew when I heard Evangeline scream out her sister's name, and beg and sob for her to wake up, that I was going to have be the strong one yet again should Rogue die.

And I knew, as I ran after my brothers, and the sister I never knew I needed until now, that her death would be the one I wouldn't recover from.


	18. Chapter 18

Rogue's POV:

I awoke briefly to the feeling of weightlessness, and swaying. I forced my tired eyes to open, and saw a determined Porthos above me.

He was carrying me, I thought drowsily. Why? Couldn't I run alongside him instead?

Then pain assaulted me once more, and I remembered. Remembered the musketball going through me, remembered the dagger entering Isaac's heart, and remembered the gleaming of the stars above me as I closed my eyes.

Now though, no stars greeted me. It was no longer peaceful. The atmosphere was charged with nervous and panicked energy.

I managed to force out, "Tos."

Porthos looked down with shock, but a wide grin split his face. "Lo there, kit. You stay wake, you ere me? Stay awake. You ain't leaving us yet."

I hummed in response, too tired to do anything else.

Then an anxious Aramis piped up, "Was she just awake?"

Porthos nodded, never slowing down nor faltering in his unwavering stride. "Yep. Still is too, ain't ya kit?"

I scoffed weakly, "M not a kit."

I heard a joyful laugh, and Aramis continued. "Rogue, I need you to tell me what hurts."

I moaned, "Everything. Can I go to sleep now?" I closed my eyes, but a harsh pinch to my arm forced my eyes open again and I glared at Porthos. I couldn't see anyone else, but I could hear them running after us.

"Don't worry, I will fix that soon." Aramis promised. "In the meantime, I need you to stay awake."

I could feel my eyes closing, though I struggled to keep them open. "That's gonna be harder to do, Mis." I murmured, trying to follow orders and stay awake.

"Stay awake, Rogue!" A harsh bark commanded, and the order forced my eyes open momentarily.

"Is Athos here?" I asked stupidly. Porthos nodded and I smiled, raising my voice as much as I could, and I called out to him, "Athos! I forgive you." Those three words felt so good to say. "And I apologize to all of you for running away." My words had gotten steadily quieter the more I spoke, my energy was draining, and I knew I was dying. But I didn't feel scared. If anything, I felt relieved. I had told them what was important.

"It won't happen again, right?" D'artagnan questioned a bit breathlessly.

I didn't have the energy to reply, instead I tried to fight the growling oblivion that was so tempting right now. It would be so easy to just give up. But I wasn't a quitter, so I fought. However, this fought wouldn't be won easily.

I could hear people shouting for me to stay awake, but I could no longer hear them clearly. And soon, I was lost again.

M

Then next time I awoke, it was to a burning pain in my mid-section. I screamed in pain and lurched forward, intent on getting away from whatever was hurting me.

I heard shouting, then hands were on my shoulders, on my hips, on my legs, keeping me down. Keeping me pinned to a harsh surface that hurt my shoulders.

My ribs ached and screamed at me to stop, to be still, but the burning pain in my torso made that nearly impossible.

Then I heard a voice, so full of urgency and determination that I listened to it.

"Rogue! Enough! Stay still! Or all I've done so far won't matter! I'm almost done with the stitching, don't you dare rip it! Or I'll get Porthos to knock you out!" The voice commanded.

I knew that voice. I knew it. Where?

Aramis…. It was Aramis. Stitching?

Even though I was confused, I forced myself to calm down, to not move.

I could hear someone, a female, singing near me. Fingers ran comfortingly through my hair, trying to distract me from the pain. It wasn't working that well, but I appreciated the effort.

The pain heightened, and I cried out again involuntarily. The hands held me again, and I could feel someone fall over my legs, but they weren't needed now. I made myself be still. It was _Aramis._ I was safe with him, so I needed to remain perfectly still.

And it was getting easier, because a buzzing had started in my ears, and exhaustion washed over me like a storm. Soon, I could barely feel the pain, and I let the darkness sweep me away again.

M

When I awoke again, the first thing I noticed was warmth. Warmth of the sun shining upon me, and I could feel a slight breeze blowing away an unbearable heat, so it was comfortable.

I shifted slightly on the comfortable bed I was on, and my mid-section erupted in pain. I fought back a cry of pain as my ribs protested the movement vehemently, and the gun wound wasn't helping matters. However, it didn't hurt as much as it had the night I got it, so it was probably better now, right?

I carefully propped the area of the injury with gentle fingers, and found that my entire torso was bound. Including my chest. And I wasn't wearing a shirt…..

I huffed out a short breath, it wasn't like I was embarrassed by it, I wasn't not proper, nor was I innocent. However, if I was wrapped like this, than Aramis must have seen me. Or Constance did it. I was going to say that Constance did it.

If only because Aramis could be a gentlemen at times.

I opened my eyes, and was greeted by my room at Aramis' house. The large room was empty, and a window was open. The sun shone through the billowing curtains and caressed my face with comforting warmth. The fluffy blankets Aramis had, combined with the wonderful mattress, made me want to go back to sleep.

However, I had no clue how long I'd been asleep. A long time if the way my stomach felt empty and hollow was any indication. I knew there was a way to feed someone who slept, but it was difficult, and normally could only be accomplished with soup or broth.

So, with a slow, cautious breath (To which I found, to my delight, that my ribs weren't that bad) I sat up achingly slow. The pain was throbbing, but I had dealt with worse alone.

I threw my legs over the side of the bed, I was wearing thin blue pants that were much too big for me, and I remembered seeing Aramis wearing them one morning a week ago. They were soft, and comfortable.

I felt shaky and sore, like I hadn't moved for too long. So I reached out, ignoring how the pull hurt my muscles, and grabbed the bedframe. Then, after a deliberate slow breath, I forced myself to my feet.

I swayed uncertainly at first, and my shaky legs wobbled in a way that made me think I was going to fall, but, after standing for a bit, my strength flooded through them again.

I cautiously released the bedpost and took a careful step forward. I staggered, nearly falling, but steadied myself and forced my way over to my wardrobe.

Once there, I opened it and drew out a dark blue tunic. With a small pained winced, I lifted my arms and let the smooth material flow over my upper body.

Once it was secure, I closed the wardrobe and began to stagger my way to the window.

I got to my destination and leaned against the windowseal. It was early morning, and I could see the city of Paris begin to wake up. Smells from the nearby bakery enticed my nose, and my stomach growled at the thought of eating something.

I ignored it in favor of watching the sun rise over the city. It was a gorgeous sight, much better than London. Then again, I might be biased. After all, I had something to love here. A family.

I smiled tenderly, looks like I'd be able to give them those figurines after all.

I heard a shout below me, and looked down to see an excited Porthos jumping up and down in the street, beaming at me, waving his arms.

He had a basket of what looked like pastries from the bakery down the street.

"Oy! Welcome back to the world of the living!" He shouted jovially. "Good to see you awake again!"

I grinned back at him, I was on the second story, otherwise he probably would have jumped through the window. Aramis had a very good house.

I waved back at him, "Good to see your smiling face as well, Porthos!" I shouted back cheerfully. "Nice to see the sunrise again."

Porthos grinned like a little boy and waved at me in a gesture that said 'get down here'. Indeed, soon after he called, "Get your runty self downstairs and have breakfast!"

I saluted him, "Yes sir! See you down there."

He nodded solemnly, "Prepare for a Du Vallon hug."

I threw him a wink that I knew he'd see, "Then you'd best prepare for a Strange hug." Technically, my last name was Dieithr, which roughly translated to Strange or Odd. I thought it fit my family extremely well.

Porthos stepped with a spring in his step towards Aramis' front door, so I backed away from the windowseal and turned to make my way downstairs.


	19. Chapter 19

As I neared the kitchen, I was greeted with voices. Aramis and Porthos were talking.

"Aramis!" Porthos crowed as the door slammed inward.

I could hear Aramis jump, "Wha? Porthos! Is there a reason you are trying to give me a heartattack?" He sounded terribly tired… Was that my doing?

Porthos laughed, "Because our kit is awake!"

There was a pause, "What? What are you talking about?" Aramis asked in a shaky voice full of disbelief and hope. "She's been asleep for a week, Porthos. How can she be awake? I saw her just this morning when Constance changed her bandages!"

Porthos laughed again and I heard him set something on the table, "I don't know meself! But she was leaning ou' the window this morning! Up and talking!"

I heard footsteps coming towards the door, so I threw it open before the two of them could open it.

What I saw was a giddy Porthos, and a stunned Aramis.

I grinned sheepishly at him, "Uh. Morning?"

Aramis shook out of his daze very quickly, and pounced on me, throwing his arms around me and very nearly knocking us both to the ground.

But Porthos swooped in then, wrapping his arms around both of us and keeping us steady, all the while laughing heartily.

"You're awake!" Aramis crowed joyfully.

I laughed, ignoring the ache in my ribs and the gun wound. "That I am!"

Aramis managed to pull away slightly, his hands never leaving my shoulders, as Porthos pulled back as well, keeping his hand on my back.

"How do you feel? Any pain? Don't ever do that to me again!" Aramis said in rapidfire.

I laughed and clasped his arm, "I feel fine. All thanks to your efforts. Thank you, Aramis." Before he could ask again I held up a hand, "I do feel slight pain, but nothing I haven't dealt with before. I'll be fine, Aramis. And I will try my hardest not to get that close to death again."

Aramis breathed a sigh of relief, and it was then I noticed how tired he looked. There were dark circles under his eyes, and they didn't have the same light they should have. But the light was starting to come back into his eyes. His hair was messy, and curling in every direction.

He wore a simple loose white shirt, black pants, and his boots. His rosary was missing, but I vaguely recalled seeing it hanging from my bed.

He leaned forward and kissed my forehead, then wrapped his arms around me, tighter than before, and put his chin on the top of my head. I buried my face in his chest and hugged him back as tightly as I could.

Based on both of their reactions, I scared them badly.

My stomach chose that moment to growl again, and Aramis pulled back to look at me curiously. Porthos, on the other hand, laughed loudly.

"Sounds like the kit is hungry!" He declared, clapping my back lighter than he normally would.

Aramis laughed jovially, his cheeks returning to their normal color and his eyes brightening. He threw his arm around my shoulders and led me into the kitchen, "Then we best fix that problem, shouldn't we?"

M

We had just finished breakfast, when the door opened yet again, and a tired looking D'artagnan stumbled inside, followed by Athos.

They didn't see me at first, and D'art waved halfheartedly to Aramis, who was standing near the fireplace.

"Hi, Aramis. Any change?" He asked.

Aramis grinned brightly at both of them, and waved towards where Porthos and I sat. "See for yourself."

As one, the two men turned and faced me. There was silent for a beat, and in that silence I read surprise on both of their features.

Then D'artagnan broke it with a loud, "You're awake!" Then he lunged at me, nearly knocking the chair I was sitting in over, and wrapped his arms tightly around me.

I laughed and returned the hug, "Yes, I'm awake! And clearly, I've slept for too long."

He nodded against my shoulder, "Much too long. Please don't do that again."

I grinned, "I'll try not to. I promise."

He pulled away, beamed at me, then stepped back as Athos approached me.

I stood up, granted with a bit of difficulty, and lifted my chin, meeting his icy blue gaze.

"You almost died." He said curtly.

I nodded, "Yep."

"You went into a dangerous situation alone."

"Yes. I was thinking only of my sister, and I had to protect her. Don't pretend you wouldn't do the same to your brothers."

He tilted his head, "Or my sister." He informed me, with a glint in his eye that suggested his words meant something.

I looked at him in confusion, "I didn't know you had a sister."

He rolled his eyes, as though it was obvious. Then I connected the dots and asked warily, "Am…. Am I?"

He nodded with a hint of a smile curving his lips upward. I grinned giddily at him, wanting to hug him, but not wanting to overstep the tentative line.

Then he surprised me. He crossed the line and reached for me. He stepped forward and captured me in a strong hug.

I was shocked for a moment, but overcame it quickly and returned the hug with equal vigor.

After what was possible the best hug (Besides a Du Vallon hug) I'd ever had as of yet, he pulled away, patting my head as he went.

Then he stood up straight and drew a letter from his breastpocket.

My name, my real name, was written on the front of it in graceful, curving letters.

I reached for it as Athos said, "Your elder sister was tried for a criminal because of her part, which she readily admitted to, in the kidnapping. However, because she is a woman, and therefore easily manipulated," The look in his told me he didn't believe that statement, "Instead of being hung for her crimes, she was returned to her homeland, where she must stay with your uncle, who was informed of the situation and agreed to take better care of her." That was a relief, uncle always adored her. We had only had one, and he and his wife would always spoil us all.

"She was banned from ever returning to Paris, and should she ever attempt to, the punishments will be most severe. She was saddened to leave your side, but she obeyed. She left this letter for you, and I was given specific instructions to have you read it, and to keep you in Paris. Where she said that you belonged." He continued as I pulled the letter towards me.

My heart ached at the thought of regaining Eve only to lose her again, but she'd be happy with Uncle, and she wouldn't be subjected to the horrors I've faced.

I looked at the letter, and opened it, sitting down.

 _Dearest Angelica,_

 _I know that you will not be happy with my sudden departure, and in all honesty, nor am I. However, it is for the best. I will be happy with our dear Uncle and Aunt, perhaps get another kitten, you know how I adored the little creatures._

 _I will miss you, dearest sister. However, do not follow me. Wales was once your home, but no longer. Your home is with your family. With those Musketeers who think so highly of you._

 _That is where you belong. And that is where you must stay._

 _Have glorious adventures! Save people. And once and while, if you possible could, remember that old willow we used to play under when we were children. Remember the old brown horse we both loved to ride so much. Remember Mother's songs. Remember Father's laughter. Remember our childhood home. Remember Isabella's dog that defended her so fiercely. And perhaps write a letter to our dearest eldest sister. I know I will; you know how much she adored letters._

 _Have a good life in Paris. I implore you._

 _With sincere love and gratitude,_

 _Your sister,_

 _Evangeline._

 _Free once more._

I fought back tears and smiled at the letter, reverently folding it back and putting it back into the envelope. Yes, I'd have to write to Isabella. I could no longer neglect either of my sisters, that's what got Evangeline into her mess in the first place.

Perhaps I could be a good aunt to my nieces and nephews. But before that, I'd have to reach out to my sister, and beg her forgiveness.

I looked up at Athos, "Thank you. For everything."

He raised an eyebrow, "That better not be goodbye. I was giving permission to tie you to a chair if the situation called for it."

I huffed a laugh and looked at the four of them, "No. I think I'll stay in Paris. After all, why should I leave all this chaos? There's too much trouble for me to get into here."

I got smiles from the men surrounding me, and I grinned brightly at them.

Now, those figurines needed to be delivered….

After I spoke to Constance.

M

I walked down the street with only a slight limp with D'artagnan beside me. Now that I was up and awake, the other three had returned to the Garrison. D'artagnan and I would follow them after we informed Constance that I was alright.

I wore my comfortable black boots again, and the four knives were back in their holsters in my boots. I had my black pants, with several daggers strapped to my thighs. My belt was strapped back on, complete with my black longsword, and several daggers. My black leather jacket was in its rightful place again, and my hat was in its proper place on my head. I still wore the dark blue tunic I had on earlier, and the early October breeze blew through the thin fabric.

We finally reached her house, and D'artagnan opened the door and walked inside, with me following closely behind him.

When we arrived I heard Constance huff and say, "D'artagnan! I thought you were supposed to be in the Garrison by now! What are you doing back here?"

D'artagnan stepped aside, and allowed Constance a full view of me.

She dropped the spoon she had been holding in shock.

"Rogue?" She asked breathlessly.

I removed my hat and bowed with a flourish, "The one and only. Unless, of course, you know another Rogue," I stood up again, "In that case, I shall be very offended, Const- Oof!"

The hat hit the ground as Constance (Yet another person) nearly tackled me to the ground. Her head was pressed to my shoulder, and her arms were wrapped tightly around my midsection.

I returned the hug, murmuring, "I'm alright, Constance. I promise. And I'm sorry for scaring you."

"Don't do it again." She murmured quietly. Then she pulled away and smacked me upside the head with her hand, glaring at me. I ducked in pain and rubbed the spot that she had connected with, staring at her with a rueful pout.

I knew better than to shout at her, and soon she shouted at me, "I thought I told you not to be an idiot!"

Against my survival instincts, I replied, "But you also said you didn't have any hope I'd follow that order, so you told me not to die. And here I am. Clearly not dead."

I got another smack for my trouble and shook my head free of the stars before saying, "Although, if you continue to hit me, I might meet an early grave."

She shook her head and made a shooing motion with her hands, "Away with you two! You have your jobs, and I have mine. So go!"

I bowed, picking up my hat and passing my her fireplace, pausing only for a second, before I ran out the door with D'artagnan behind me.

Now then, that was one wooden carving gone. I just needed to drop the rest off.


	20. Epilogue

No-one's POV:

Constance turned with a huff, muttering under her breath. But, before she returned to her work, her sharp eyes caught something out of place on the mantle of the fireplace.

She walked forward, and picked up a wooden carving of a hawk that hadn't been there before then. It was intricately carved, each feather had been given its own texture, and it was painted carefully.

The head was red, and blue eyes peered back at Constance. The wings were deep red color that molded into black the further it went down. The hawk's claws were curled around nothing, and Constance found that the claws could fit around her pinky perfectly.

She turned the figurine in her hand. Such care and devotion was put into the piece. She had seen D'artagnan's work before, but this wasn't his. He didn't like to paint his pieces. She turned the bird upside down and found a carved signature that was small, and it rested on the base of the bird's wings.

 _Rogue_

Constance huffed, but a gentle smile bloomed on her face. Rogue must have left it before she fled the house.

Constance walked upstairs into her bedroom and bent down to pull up a loose floorboard. Inside the small cubby hole was a lockbox. Constance produced the key from her corset and unlocked it. She carefully placed the hawk into the box before locking it once again, putting it back into the cubby hole, replacing the floorboard, and walked back downstairs as if nothing happened.

M

Treville closed the door to his office, already having informed Rogue that he was glad she was better, and that she'd have to be more careful in the future. He had clapped her shoulder, and she had patted his side, smiling brightly.

Now that he was in the seclusion of his office, he heaved out a long sigh. The five down there were going to give him a heart attack and kill him prematurely. It was bad enough when there was three! Now with the addition of D'artagnan and his trouble making partner, Rogue, Treville wasn't certain he'd live.

But he would rather die than lose even one of them.

He moved to sit down in his chair, hand moving towards his pockets in a habit.

He paused though, as his fingers brushed something that hadn't been there before.

He brought the object out, and was met with a carved lion, sitting straight and proud, blue eyes gazing out into the world with surprising intelligence for a carving. It was painted a tan color, and its mane was a rich red color that faded into black. There was silver streaks in its mane, but it added to the lion's charm.

The carving showed the dedication of its carver, and Treville found that pride flushed in his chest.

There was only one person he had come into actual contact this morning. And that person was Rogue.

Sure enough, when Treville turned the carving, a small signature rested on one of the Lion's paws.

 _Rogue_

He huffed a laugh at the sheer surprise that the girl could reverse pickpocket so well that even the Captain of the Musketeers didn't notice she was doing it.

She was clever, and it was that cleverness that would earn her a spot in the Musketeers. Now just to find a way to get the king's attention without revealing that Rogue was not a man…..

Treville sat at desk, and put the Lion on one corner of the desk, looking at the door to greet whoever dared to open the door.

Treville smiled.

M

Porthos took a deep breath and walked away from the stunned circle of trainees who had been watching him instruct them on how to be light on their feet. He had used D'artagnan as an assistant, and the boy had done well, using Porthos' momentum to flip over his head and landing, ducking before Porthos could swipe him off his feet.

D'artagnan was now walking over to Athos, who was waiting, the perfect picture of patience and calm, for their sword lesson of the day.

Aramis was working with Rogue on her flintlock training, and she had her eyes closed as per his instructions. There was clearly a wide berth given to the two.

Porthos collapsed on their bench and leaned onto it. His eyes focused on something in the center of the table that did not belong there.

He picked up his head and narrowed his eyes at the carved figure of a bear that rested in the center of the table, paws outstretched and swiping.

It was painted a dark brown color, with black on his head and paws, merging perfectly with the brown color, and the deep red color running through the whole thing. The deep brown eyes peered at Porthos and screamed danger despite just being a simple carving.

Porthos picked up the carving and turned it in his hands. Something caught his eye on one of the giant bear's swiping paws. A small, terribly small, signature.

 _Rogue_

Porthos bellowed a laugh and looked up at the person herself.

The damn girl was smiling, as if she knew, without having to open her eyes, that Porthos had found the gift she had left for who else but he?

Porthos' fingers curled protectively around the bear, and he grinned at the girl who was hitting the bottles that Aramis set up, with her eyes shut tightly, and a hand over them as proof.

M

Aramis walked away from the shooting range, having finished with Rogue. He took off his hat to run a hand through his hair, and something clattered to the ground.

He turned and stared, bewildered, at the black carving sitting at his feet.

He picked it up and twirled it in his hands. It was a panther. He remembered seeing one in a book once, and from what he remembered, this carving was surprisingly accurate. Its tail was curved around it, and it appeared to be asleep. But if he looked closer, he could see its eyes were open to slits, and despite them being almost black with how dark they were, they seemed to glow. Its claws were outstretched threatingly, and it seemed tensed, ready to pounce.

He held it away from him, and it went back to its deceptive sleep. He had, of course, seen paintings that could change like this, but it took a master carver to do it to a piece of wood….

He looked close again and saw a small signature carved into the beast's tail.

 _Rogue_

He looked up at the laughing Rogue as she pranced up to D'artagnan, and began to chat with him.

He looked back down to the piece in his hand, and smiled.

M

D'artagnan ducked Rogue's fist and rolled forward, leaping to his feet and twisted around to catch Rogue's hand before she hit him.

He twisted her hand, making her arm twist behind her back. He wasn't expecting her to spring off the wall in front of them and flip over his head, dragging him down and slamming him into the bricks below.

He blinked out the stars in his eyes and saw Rogue's grinning face, "Hey! Even when I'm injured I can still bring you down. Now, what does that say about you?" She teased as she held out a hand to pull him to his feet.

He huffed, taking her hand. "That says that you are an acrobat, and you should be in the circus instead of fighting here."

She pouted and slung her arm over his shoulder as the other Musketeers grinned at the pair. They began to walk towards their table and she patted his shoulder, "Sorry, friend, but you are stuck with me for some time yet. Although, you might want to check what got into your shirt." She threw him a wink, then walked away to greet one of the other recruits.

D'artagnan groaned, expecting another one of her pranks, and began to search his shirt for whatever insect she had put in there now. Honestly, he used to be a farmboy from Gascony, did she really think a bug would scare him?

But he removed his shirt, far past modesty here, and shook it out. Out of the collar fell a wooden figurine.

He put his shirt and crouched down, picking up the carved figure. He stood and inspected it.

It was a wooden horse, intricately carved with its mane and tail flying out behind it as it reared, striking at him.

It was colored a deep brown, with a black mane and tail, as well as black hooves. Its deep brown eyes were wide and dangerous.

On its chest was a small signature.

 _Rogue_

D'artagnan grinned at the figure.

M

Athos bent down and picked up the black sword, then straightened and handed the weapon back to its owner.

Rogue took it with a sheepish grin. "Thanks. I just can't get the move right!"

Despite being able to twist her opponents sword away from them with her cutlass, she was incapable of doing it with her longsword. Athos was trying to rectify that.

He stepped closer to her and drew his sword, she matched his balanced stance and Athos slowly showed her again.

He ran his rapier down the length of her sword, then, at the hilt, he twisted his wrist, breaking the balance of her sword in her hand, and the hilt went flying through the air.

It hit the ground a short distance away from them with a clatter, and Rogue looked at him with thinly hidden awe.

She retrieved her sword as Athos instructed, "Tighten your grip slightly on the handle, you want to avoid losing your own sword just in case someone else gets the same idea. Raise your hand, and when you're ready to disarm, twist your wrist. It isn't that different from your curved sword, the only real difference is that with the cutlass, you have an added advantage of being able to 'grab' your opponents sword. Understand?"

Rogue nodded and set up her stance again.

She still didn't get it right, and Athos still knocked it out of her hand, but it was an improvement.

She went to retrieve her sword again, rubbing her stinging hand, but tripped on a loose stone and hit the ground harshly with her knees.

She groaned and clutched at her injured ribs.

Athos was kneeling at her side in an instant, but she waved him away with a wince. "M okay. Just jarred them a bit too much." She tried to reassure him.

He frowned, "Perhaps we'd best put training on hold for now. My apologies, I should not have allowed you to train so soon."

She shook her head with a light laugh, "It's okay. I have to do it sometime. And I'll need to get my strength back eventually."

Athos shook his head and grabbed her arm gently, hoisting her to her feet. She stumbled briefly, pressing a hand to his chest. He felt something shift on his jacket, but ignored it for now as he steadied the girl in front of him.

She bent down carefully and retrieved her sword, sheathing it and then walking back to their table saying, "Don't worry, Athos. I won't stress my injuries too much today. You should take a break soon too."

When she walked away, Athos searched his jacket for the irregularity he had felt there.

His hand hit something, and he brought it out curiously.

It was a wooden carving of a wolf sitting calmly and regarded the world with cunning dark blue eyes. The wolf was carved delicately, and painted silver with strands of black and white weaving throughout its body. The tip of its tail was completely black, and so were its paws.

Its tail curled around its paws, and a name was carved into the tail.

 _Rogue_

A smirk rose to Athos' lips. He had seen her slip a lion into Treville's waistpocket without him noticing, and had watched her the rest of the day to see her placing a bear on the table for Porthos to find, slipping a panther onto the brim of Aramis' hat, and balancing a horse on D'artagnan's collar.

He just didn't expect to also get the honor of having one.

M

Rogue shut her bedroom door with a huff and sagged against the wood.

She would swear until she was blue in the face that she was all healed, but despite that, it was exhausting hiding that everything hurt.

There wasn't a point to worrying them more, especially since she had dealt with worse on her own.

She opened her blue eyes and looked around her room to find something odd on the table.

She walked over to it, and found a black banded ring with a dark blue stone set into it. She picked it up curiously, and found that there was an etching on the inside of the ring.

 _ACF. A. CD. PDV._

She grinned and put the ring onto her thumb, it fit perfectly, and she had to laugh.

"You know, the point of surprising them with gifts wasn't so they would give me one too." She complained dramatically while inspecting the ring. "However, as gifts go, this one isn't bad." She consented with a smirk.

She turned and opened her window, leaning out and watching the moon rise. The city gradually went to sleep, and the stars glinted cheerfully at the Rogue Angel.

 **Hey guys! Sapphire here! So, that concludes yet another story.**

 **I'm curious. What did you guys think of it? I was reeeeaaallly nervous to put this out, but so far you guys seemed to enjoy it.**

 **Do you want me to do a series off of it? Or would you like to see something else? Let me know in the comments below! (That rhymed)**

 **As always, thank you for sticking with it to the end.** **J**

 **ST**


	21. Aramis' Torment

**Hey guys! Sapphire here!**

 **So, someone asked me to do another chapter, but with Aramis' POV on the fixing of Rogue after she almost died. Honestly I hadn't been planning on it until I was asked. But! Here it is, so enjoy the angst!**

 **ST**

 _Aramis' POV:_

We didn't have a secluded room, so we put Rogue in tent that had been set up to be a medic tent.

Athos ordered everyone not dying out (And thankfully no one was seriously injured), then closed the flaps after ordering everyone to stay clear of this tent.

I was handed my bag of tools as Porthos set Rogue gently onto the ground.

I kneeled beside her, wishing I had an actual table, and removed my cloak.

I couldn't see any injuries on her besides the gunshot wound, so I just rolled up her shirt and began to clean the injury with the bucket of water that Porthos had just rushed in from the fire as Rogue's sister pulled Rogue's head onto her lap and began to sing. I flushed the injury complete, which had to have hurt if the wince she gave me was any sign.

I cleaned it out on both sides, then pulled out a dagger, washing it in the water. This was the part I hoped she'd stay out for.

I dug around in her injury for the musket ball, wincing every time she cried out in her sleep, blood coating my hands and making my vision get wobbly, before the ball finally came out.

She slept on, thankfully.

I then removed a needle from my bag. Fighting off the sick feeling in my stomach that made me want to vomit.

I washed the needle off, rolled up my sleeves, and instructed D'artagnan and Porthos to hold Rogue down. I hoped beyond hope that she'd stay under, but this was going to hurt her a lot.

I couldn't see any signs of infection setting in, but the area was still tender.

I took a deep breath, trying to steady my hands, and felt Athos' hand curl around my shoulder. "You can do it, 'Mis." He said quietly.

I nodded, sucking in another breath before I began to stick up the still bleeding injury.

I got halfway through before Rogue started to scream.

It was the worst sound I'd ever heard. But then, I say that when all my family screams.

She lunged forward and Porthos shoved her shoulders back down, trying to steady her and keep her still.

Athos pushed against her arms, keeping her from swinging at me, and D'artagnan practically draped himself across her legs.

I pushed down on her hip and tried to continue, tried to ignore the horrible sound that was sending shivers down my spine, tried to keep my hands steady, and tried to blink back tears from my vision.

I began to pray in Spanish. Asking God and all that was holy to help my friend, to protect her, to banish all the pain from her, to heal her, and to guide my hands as I tried.

I broke out of my praying to shout, "Rogue! Enough! Stay still! Or all I've done so far won't matter! I'm almost done with the stitching, don't you dare rip it! Or I'll get Porthos to knock you out!"

It was said in Spanish because my nerves were too far gone to focus on French right now, but it seemed to work.

Rogue stilled and stopped thrashing, allowing me to continue stitching. Every once and while, she stir, and her arms would raise like she wanted to take a swing at something, but then she'd stop, and she go stock still again.

I could see her trembling, the sweat pooling off of her face, at the sheer effort of not moving. She definitely had a lot of self-control.

Soon, she went limp, and I looked up in alarm but Evangeline put her hand against her sister's mouth and nodded to me. "She's….. She's still…. Breathing." Came the shaky answer. The woman had tears running down her face, and her green eyes looked dead.

I noticed that in an instant, and returned to my task.

I finished sewing up the injury, washing it off again, then put a paste on it to fight off infection.

I felt around her ribs, and righted the ones broken with careful precision, all the while mentally screaming. Once I was done setting her ribs, I looked up at Porthos and asked, "Can you set her up? I need to wrap her now."

Prothos gave me a broken smile and said, "Yer gonna have to speak in French, Mis."

I started slightly, had I been speaking in Spanish?

I took a deep breath and asked the question again in French. Porthos nodded and together, we got her torso wrapped in the thick bandage I carried in my bag.

After I was done, I checked her over for any other injuries, and found nothing but scrapes and bruises that would heal easily. I still cleaned out the scrapes and put the paste on the them.

When I was finished with my task, and sat back against my heels and nodded. "She's done. With any hope, she'll make a full recovery. But I don't know when she'll wake."

Athos put his hand on my shoulder again, "I'm sure she'll be fine. You did well." He spoke in a calm and collected tone, but I could read the worry hidden beneath it like a book.

I sucked in a deep breath, then asked, "Do any of you need medical attention?"

They all shook theirs heads, so I stood up, said, "Good." Then staggered outside, and proceeded to expel what little I'd eaten onto a tree.

M

 _A week later:_

I was sitting at my kitchen table, incredibly tired but I didn't want to sleep because I knew that if I did fall asleep, I'd only see Rogue dying, or dead, and I'd have to burst into her room and check to make sure she was still among the living.

I yawned, but soon jumped out of my chair as the door opened with a loud bang, and Porthos strode inside.

I knew he had a key to my house, so he had probably just come in through the main entrance and waltz through my living room to scare the living daylights out of me.

He was grinning happily at me, a look I hadn't seen him wear in a week or so now.

"Wha? Porthos! Is there a reason you are trying to give me a heartattack?" I asked as I tried to get my heart beating normally.

Porthos laughed at me, "Because our kit is awake!"

I froze, my brain tried desperately to make sense of what he just said.

"What? What are you talking about?" I dared to hope that he was right, and wasn't just saying things. "She's been asleep for a week, Porthos. How can she be awake? I saw her just this morning when Constance changed her bandages!" And how difficult it was to wait outside the door until Constance left.

Porthos laughed again and he set the basket he carried onto the table, "I don't know meself! But she was leaning ou' the window this morning! Up and talking!"

I turned on my heel and began to walk to the door leading to the staircase, if she was awake, I needed to see her.

Before I could reach it though, it flew open on its own. Is everything trying to kill me this morning?

My brain froze as I was greeted with a smiling face that belonged to Rogue.

"You're alive!" I cried out happily, lunging towards her.

The laugh she gave me was the most beautiful sound I'd ever heard.


	22. AN Sequel!

Hey guys! Sapphire here! So, this story now has a sequel titled 'One For All' so go check that out for more Musketeer madness!

ST


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